No Church in the Wild
by LostMyPen
Summary: The Trio and Draco Malfoy endure, overcome and coexist. You do what you have to do to win. But what if everyone has a different goal and no one is willing to lose? This is Deathly Hallows, redux. Contains mature themes/violence. No slash.
1. Pompeii

_No Church in the Wild_: though there are many different ways you could interpret it, the basic theme of the song this story is named after is: there are no guarantees of refuge or salvation when you're fighting against someone or something much bigger than yourself...

*Action/adventure/drama with focus on Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco. No slash. Canon pairings.*

Some mature themes and graphic violence.

* * *

Note:

The first few chapters are very fast-paced with multiple POV shifts. This is required to set up the plot quickly. Think of it like an extended prologue of sorts.

This story begins in the middle of summer before Harry Potter started the Horcrux search, at the _same point_ where the Deathly Hallows began.

* * *

_As it turns out, Voldemort had a backup plan to go along with his Horcruxes...  
_

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**_Pompeii_**

The door to the study opened with a bang, startling Narcissa badly.

She stared down at her lap, where her dropped teacup was now laying, the brown liquid soaking into her silk robes.

Draco had fared better, sitting across from her with a clear view of the door, still holding his own tea. "What is it father?"

Lucius Malfoy looked down at his wife's back, addressing her, as if she'd been the one who'd asked the question. "He wants you."

Once again, Draco spoke, "Why?"

Ignoring his son: "Now."

Draco stood. "What does he want?"

"Mind your tongue," Lucius hissed, only now sparing him a look, "he wants your mother. And he wants her now."

Narcissa looked up at her son, seeing how he paled in front of her eyes.

"He's not going to… I mean, the other woman, she _died_-"

With real fear in Lucius' voice: "Boy, watch what you say or so help me-"

Narcissa finally scooped up the teacup, setting it carefully on the table before standing and facing her husband. He too, had paled considerably, but he had none of the shakes that Draco now suffered from, going up and down his arms to the cup he still grasped, knuckles whitened.

"Where is he?" she asked.

Lucius pursed his lips before answering. "Master bedroom."

She felt her stomach twist, her heart beat faster. But neither showed on her face.

"Mother…"

"I look forward to our next teatime Draco," Narcissa said cutting off whatever he was going to say, putting a calming hand on his wrist as she briefly looked up into his beseeching eyes.

Then she allowed Lucius to lead her from the room.

* * *

"Is he going to kill her?"

Severus Snape glanced up at the voice, looking away from his bubbling cauldrons of potions and unrolled scrolls. It had been many weeks since the younger Malfoy had graced the dungeon area of the Malfoy Manor. There wasn't much reason for him to visit, as it had become Snape's domain. It was where he'd been practically banished by Voldemort, ordered to find a solution to the Dark Lord's problem.

But Severus wasn't surprised to see Draco standing in front of him. Now that his mother had been visiting Voldemort for the last week, Severus had no doubt she'd let it slip to the boy that she drank a potion before every… session. Perhaps she'd even sent her son down here herself, no doubt wondering, with a bit of horror, he thought, what it was that Voldemort was making her ingest.

Snape turned back to his cauldron, stirring it carefully. "Not if I made the potion correctly, no."

"What about the other woman? That- that Terwyn Wilkes?" Draco stood on the other side of the table now, hands placed on top in fists. "She died after two weeks!"

Snape acknowledged this with a small tilt of his head, "I've changed a few ingredients since. It's been modified. Utilized a few different techniques-"

"That's it?!" he snapped, "You _changed a few ingredients_?" Then he completely lost it, grabbing a handful of Snape's empty beakers, hurling them at the wall where they shattered. "That's all you have to say?! He's going to kill her by doing this! R-rape her and kill her! Don't you care-"

Snape pulled out his wand, ignoring the fact that Draco reciprocated almost immediately, instead aiming at the door the younger man had entered through, slamming it shut with a wordless spell.

"You fool," Snape said quietly into the silence, "did you even think of putting up a Silencing charm before throwing your little fit?"

Draco glanced at the door, breathing hard, but still held the wand pointed at Snape's chest. He clenched his teeth. "I don't care."

"That's your problem Draco, always so short-sighted."

Eventually, Draco lowered his wand, staring down at the cauldron. "Did you fix the potion or not?"

Snape regarded him. Saw the high points of color on each cheek, the tremors of rage still going through his wand hand. "I believe so, Draco. But it's an ancient and extremely complicated magic that the Dark Lord is attempting... You have to be prepared for the worst."

The younger man shook his head. "I can't lose her."

The cauldron started bubbling between them, loud in the silence. The color changing from a deep purple to an even darker black. Snape had no answer.

* * *

Despite having called Draco Malfoy a fool, Snape knew it was actually himself who was the one acting with thoughtlessness. In fact, if the Dark Lord found out, it was most certainly suicidal.

But he was doing it anyway.

CRACK

Unkempt meadow grass bent slightly in a light breeze, reaching his knees.

He turned his head, scanning the hillside of the field where he stood… ah. There it was. Illuminated by the moon, a leaning house, with far too many rooms stacked upon each other. Both chimneys pumping out smoke as he watched, most of the lights of the house burning brightly in the windows. The Weasley's Burrow.

Just far enough away from it to feel their invisible wards, crackling dangerously, but not to set any off. Hopefully close enough to reach the mind of the one he needed.

Snape focused his magic; attempting Legilimency from this distance was difficult but not impossible. Especially if the recipient didn't have any shields, which he knew Hermione Granger did not.

He slipped through the wards carefully, just a small mental thread, feeling its way into the house. It didn't take long to locate Granger, resting on a chair surrounded by the Weasley family, full from dinner, content with the company. When Snape recognized that Potter, too, was in the room, he almost jerked himself back, too quickly, which might have alerted some of the Aurors stationed inside to his presence. But he controlled the urge, instead delving deeper into Granger's thoughts.

Now came the difficult part. The influence of thought. It was a hard skill to develop, not exactly Imperius, not exactly Occlumency, a different kind of magic, that if the Dark Lord knew he could and had used on him, he'd have ripped the flesh from his bones.

_Perhaps after such a filling dinner, I should go outside... some fresh air... look at the stars_… he supplied carefully to Granger.

_Ye__s__, that sounds __rather __nice, _she agreed almost immediately. She had no idea that the thought had not originated from her. _And Ron too. And maybe Harry'll want to try his broom he hasn't been on that in forever, he's so depressed_-

With an annoyed curl of the lip, Snape stopped her, _actually__, it would be nice to be alone wouldn't it? This house is always so crowded, I should take a minute to myself._

_Yes, maybe it would be nice to be alone…_

Snape didn't feel she needed any more convincing than that. He'd wait. And indeed, he felt her slowly come to the conclusion that she should go outside. She took her time actually leaving though, finishing her conversations, saying where she was going to the others, explaining she wanted to be alone for a bit when they asked if she wanted company, stopping by in the kitchen for another tart.

Snape felt his hand tighten impatiently on his wand.

Finally, Granger opened the back door and stepped outside.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Snape sent out his spell, "_Imperio_!"

The wards around the house immediately went off, he felt them vibrating in front of him, fireworks shooting off into the sky. He knew everyone in the house was scrambling, trying to figure out what was going on. More Aurors were already Apparating inside.

But they were going to be too late. Granger had no chance on fighting him off, and Snape easily assumed control. "Run this way," he ordered through their mental link, "quickly."

Snape watched the house as Granger followed his command. And finally someone had enough thought to go after Hermione, and the door burst open. None other than Harry Potter of course. His eyes immediately fell on her, who had just reached the awaiting Snape.

Severus stared at the boy, filled with hate; it was the first time he'd seen him since that fateful night he'd had to kill Dumbledore. But Snape was wearing his Death Eater mask and Potter was none the wiser.

"_EXPELLIAR_-"

Snape snatched Granger's arm and Apparated away before Potter could even finish the spell.

* * *

Narcissa's hands clenched onto the bed sheets, sweat dripping from her forehead, tears from her eyes. She bit her lip, pulling it between her teeth until she'd torn a bit off. She screamed.

The evil on top of her performed a silencing spell without lifting a finger, without lifting a wand, continuing his rhythm.

This was the most painful it had ever been. _Why, _she wondered madly. _why why why why why_? She screamed again, sobbing now.

It continued.

* * *

Granger was still holding that damn tart. Snape knocked it from her hand. "Go sit in that chair."

She did, and though Snape felt a small amount of struggle, he easily held it under his control.

Waving his wand, numerous ropes appeared across his captives wrists and ankles, around her waist. Tightening until he waved his wand again. Good. He doubled checked his wards around the little shack they were now in. Good. Made sure his mask was in place. The potion he'd used to change his voice was still working.

He released her from the Imperius curse.

Granger's passive face immediately turned to frightened anxiety. "What do you want-"

"The Dark Lord has a new plan that will destroy the Wizarding world as we know it. Muggles will stand no chance against this magic."

Granger blinked up at him, struggling to process and not let her fright stupefy her. "W-why would a Death Eater tell me this? Why should I believe-"

"I'm sure you're aware that the Order has some Death Eaters working with them?" he answered blandly, unimpressed. Although he wasn't technically in the Order's service anymore, he knew he needed their assistance.

"Yes but- well, don't you have better ways to communicate with them?"

"The Dark Lord has many eyes looking out for him. Triple spies. Now do you want to keep quibbling and wasting time, or do you want to know what the Dark Lord has planned?"

"Can't you release my ropes, at least?"

He ignored her. "He's attempting to sire a child."

She immediately stopped struggling, looking up at him with a mix of suspicion, horror and disgust. "He is? Can he even do that?"

"He's found an ancient and very dark magic that seems to coincide with the idea. It makes many among us believe it might be possible. He has failed on a previous attempt, but so far his most recent endeavor seems to be… successful."

"But... but how would this, as you said, 'destroy the world'?"

"It's not the siring of the child, it's what he plans to do with the child. He needs to sacrifice it for a spell that would grant him almost unlimited power."

"What kind of spell is this?" she demanded, eyebrows climbing, "I've never heard of it."

"It's not something one would find in the restricted section at Hogwarts." Snape bit out impatiently. He'd chosen Granger to be the recipient of this message because he'd hoped she'd be the least likely to stop him with stupid questions or pointless threats. He didn't have time for them.

"I've read a lot of books-" she started defensively. Foolishly.

"The Dark Lord has traveled the world, searching for and interrogating, _torturing_, wizards and witches to discover dark magic such as this. He has spent years assimilating and deciphering all that information. Do you understand the gravity of the situation? The successful sacrifice of a male child of his own seed in this ritual spell would grant him back his own body; grant him powers you and I have never even dreamed of." He paused here, surveying her, before finally adding, "Your parents wouldn't stand a chance, in Australia or anywhere else."

She paled, setting her mouth angrily.

"It would be wise to polish up on your Occlumency shields."

"I…" She looked as if she literally was going to be sick for a moment. Then, with an abruptness that surprised him, her face cleared, and she looked up at him grimly. "Okay, what else do you know? What's your plan? What do you want us to do?"

His left forearm started its warning tingle. No doubt Voldemort had just been told a lone Death Eater had attacked the Burrow and kidnapped an Order member. Someone would be paying with their life tonight. Hopefully the precautions he took would make sure it wasn't him.

He waved an arm, and immediately the ropes holding the Granger girl fell away. "Once I Apparate, my wards will drop and you will be able to as well. I don't suppose I need to tell you to share what I said to only those you trust in the utmost?"

"Wait, you didn't tell me enough. I need to know-"

CRACK

* * *

She spent all her time recovering now, Draco reflected darkly. Her life was spent in two beds. The one with Voldemort and the one in her own bedroom.

He watched as the Imperiused medi-witch put another cool washcloth on his mother's face. She moaned in response, leaning into it. How he hated this.

"Draco."

"M-my Lord!" he stuttered in surprise, turning from the bed. The tall, pale figure of Voldemort stood in the shadowed doorway behind him. His blood ran cold at the sight. At the last possible second before it would have been imprudent, he remembered to bow.

Voldemort stared down at him, his slit eyes contracting. "Draco, why aren't you with the others preparing for the raid?"

"I'm- I just wanted to check on mother first, but I'm … I'm going there right now, actually," he said quickly, straightening.

"Very well." Voldemort said, and then turned his eyes to his mother, taking in the view of her blonde hair spread over the pillows, nightgown sticking to the sweat on her body.

Draco stared at him, feeling a violent heat rise from deep inside him. A rage he could barely restrain, but would never dare express.

"Oh, but you think I can't feel that, Draco?" Voldemort asked softly, dangerously, though his penetrating gaze didn't move from Narcissa. "And that you dare look at me so? Your aunt Bellatrix might have taught you how to block yourself from others, but not me. Never me."

Draco blanched, struggling to get himself under control, glancing away immediately. Most of his anger now washed away by abject terror at the soft words. "I'm sorry my Lord, I didn't mean… I forgot myself."

"You know, if you hadn't been with me in the hall at the time when we were betrayed by Krimbooth, I might have suspected you, Draco."

Draco remembered, three weeks ago, Remmy Krimbooth had gone and kidnapped Hermione Granger, and through his network of spies, the Dark Lord had found out about it almost immediately. His heart skipped a few beats imagining himself going through what Krimbooth had when Voldemort found him out.

Krimbooth's screams had been heard all throughout the Manor, amplified magically and lasting for hours. Voldemort had made all the Death Eaters parade past him at the end. The man had been left with no eyes. His legs had been nubs.

"I'm sorry, my Lord." Draco said again, desperately.

"Go," Voldemort answered, walking around the length of the bed, "I want to be alone... with your mother."

He fled from the room.

* * *

Shrouded in night though they were, the Muggle town would surely see them on such a clear evening, riding through the sky, and they didn't want that happening too early. So they landed, and walked. Draco ended up beside his father at the end of the pack, each carrying their own brooms.

Lucius double-checked that there was a good amount of distance between them and the next closest Death Eaters, before leaning just a little bit closer to him. "You had a run-in with him?"

The younger man shook himself out of whatever reverie he'd been in, looking surprised that his father had actually addressed him. He nodded.

"I will only warn you once. Stay away from your mother, Draco," Lucius said in a hushed voice.

Draco stopped short, staring at him. "What? Why?"

"Keep walking. It's too late for her. He has bigger plans than you can ever conceive. If your mother had her faculties left, and if she knew how close you came to getting yourself killed last night, she'd be saying the same thing." He started walking faster at this point, not wanting to draw attention, saying one last time, over his shoulder, "Stay away."

* * *

Narcissa stared at the butter knife, lying by the biscuit tray.

She felt like this was the first time she'd been lucid in a while. It was like breaking from a sea of molasses, and she could feel it trying to pull her back under, telling her to rest her head on the pillow. Close her eyes. Drift off.

But she wanted that knife.

She let her head fall to the other side of the pillow. The medi-witch was still there with her, staring at nothing with deadened eyes.

"Get the knife for me," she demanded, feeling her words slur together as they left her mouth.

The medi-witch didn't even acknowledge her.

There was a noise to her right, a clearing of the throat. She turned her head, expecting her son, instead, she saw the sallow-skinned Severus Snape. She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"I see my potion brought you around," he said softly, coming closer and sitting in an abandoned chair to her right.

"Yes," was all she could manage. Her eyes went back to the butter knife. Severus was right next to it. Maybe he'd give it to her.

"Listen… Narcissa, there's something you need to be aware of."

She examined it's lightly serrated edges, trying to tune Severus out.

He picked up her hand, holding it in his. His hands were warm and hers were cold. "It finally happened-"

"The knife…"

He ignored her; maybe she hadn't said it aloud. "Narcissa, you're pregnant."

Her hand tightened in his, but she showed no other reaction. She wanted that knife _so badly _though.

* * *

"AURORS! THEY'RE OUTSIDE!"

"They're not outside you fool they'r -aaagh!"

"Aurors!"

Draco dove for his wand, knocked from his hand by a lucky disarmament spell. Feeling another whiz by his face at the same time, he grabbed it and scrambled back to his feet, immediately taking off for one of the Manor's side doors. Aurors were all around, Death Eaters were all around, the spell that almost hit him could have been from either but he wasn't waiting to find out which, he wanted to be by his mother's side.

He slipped inside, bolting for the stairs.

"Where th' fuck ya' think you're goin'?" Fenrir Greyback demanded in his deep growling voice, grabbing Draco's robes from behind, almost choking him.

"Get off!"

"You fuckin' coward, the Dark Lord's gonna' hear about this!"

Draco resisted the urge to take his own wand to the despicable creature but before he could consider it too long, Greyback dropped him, baring his pointed teeth before bellowing out, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" over and over again. Aurors had breached the Manor. They were inside.

Malfoy immediately took off, up the rest of the stairs, slipping on a rug in the hall before catching himself, turning to the door.

He burst into his mother's room, slamming the doors shut behind him. "Mother, get down!" he shouted, throwing some shield spells on the door, floating over her wardrobe for good measure. "Aurors are inside, and the Dark Lord's not here, he went on a scouting -" he choked on his tongue, turning around for the first time and seeing none other than Harry fucking Potter staring him down from the other side of the room, a wand pointed straight at his nose.

The prick was holding a broom in his other hand, and there was glass all over the floor. It didn't take a genius to realize he'd gotten in through the window.

"_Accio_ wand!" he commanded before Draco got his wits back, and though Draco tried to hold on, the wand went zipping into Potter's waiting hand. "He really does keep you guys in the dark doesn't he? 'Scouting mission'. Right."

"What the hell do you know about it?" he spat, eyes going from his wand, to Potter, back to his sleeping mother.

Potter just shook his head, then with a move of his wand: "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Draco's arms snapped to his side, his legs together, and he toppled over, landing hard against the wardrobe before sliding and landing down on his side.

Potter was gathering his mother up from the bed, carefully lifting her.

_He better not hurt her! _he screamed in his head, watching as Potter put her on the broom in front of him. She still had not woken.

Behind him he could hear someone pounding on the door, the wardrobe bouncing against him from the incredible pressure. Potter paid this no heed though, sending Malfoy one last look as though considering something, before flying out the window, throwing that damned invisibility cloak over them. The last thing he saw before they disappeared from view was his mother's head resting on Potter's shoulder.

* * *

Voldemort had lost his Horcrux locket and the newly-pregnant Narcissa all in the length of an hour. When he reached the manor, dark thunderclouds enveloped the sky, Death Eaters and Aurors alike were struck dead as he went by.

Bellatrix Lestrange was the only one who dare come close to him after the remaining Aurors had retreated and the Manor's wards were back up.

"What would you like us to do, Master?"

He was silent, looking over the room. Various artifacts and plant-life in his line of sight exploded, making anyone near them cringe.

When he could control himself enough to speak, he requested they bring him Draco Malfoy.

* * *

"No! No! You have to take me back! He'll kill him! He'll kill him!" Narcissa howled, wildly scratching at anyone who risked coming close. "Take me back!"

The doctor pressed a hand to her own face, clotting the blood with a cloth, one of Narcissa's victims. "She's been going on like this ever since she woke up," she shook her head, raising herself from the bedside stool, "I'll fetch something to calm her down."

"Please, please, take me back!" she wailed tearfully.

Harry looked at his two friends, nodding towards the door.

They followed him out, past the four Aurors guarding the entrance at all times. Hermione didn't wait a beat, immediately saying, "Well, it's true. Somehow Voldemort got her pregnant, the doctor confirmed it while you two were gone."

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Ron said, rubbing his chin, "Blimey, I almost feel bad for her."

"Well, now that we got her we can finally focus on what Dumbledore wanted, which was getting rid of the Horcruxes." Harry said.

"Harry, maybe, well, if Dumbledore knew Voldemort was going to try this, maybe he'd have wanted us to focus on it too," Hermione said, starting hesitantly but rushing to finish at Harry's dark look, "I'm just saying _maybe_!"

"Excuse me?"

The three turned, seeing the doctor poking her head out the door, "Excuse me, you- you might want to hear this."

"What?" Harry demanded as they rushed over.

"Well, I got her to calm down some, y'know a bit of chocolate, a small potion... and now that she's more understandable, well..." the doctor licked at her lips, looking nervous and a bit overwhelmed. "Well, just come listen."

Narcissa was sitting up in her bed, holding a mug of hot chocolate in her hands, staring over at them. She met Harry's eyes and her stare seemed to grow even more intense. "Potter. Potter listen to me-"

"I'm listening," he said evenly.

"The Dark Lord confided that he knows a spell to locate me anywhere, at all times, as long as he has an immediate blood relative of mine at his disposal, which, I'm sure you're aware," her voice wavered a bit, "he has one."

Harry watched her take a sip from the mug while he thought. If she was telling the truth...

Ron spoke up, "We need to move her, Apparate her somewhere."

"Then what? Continuous Apparation?" Hermione said doubtfully, "That'll lead to splinching for sure."

"Well, we need to do something, Voldemort might be coming right now!"

"Hogwarts," Harry decided, "We need to take her to Hogwarts, he can't Apparate into there, he shouldn't be able to detect her there-"

"It's a very powerful spell, linked with blood," Narcissa cut in, "he will be able to detect me. He might not be able to get to me immediately, if I was stashed in Hogwarts, but he'd know exactly where I was. Your best chance," she took a breath, "your best chance is to go get my son, as you did me."

Harry clenched his fists.

"What is it?" Ron asked, looking at him with worry.

"I had a chance to grab him, Malfoy. Or-or y'know, get rid of him, when I got Narcissa." He shook his head angrily.

"Well you didn't know, mate."

"Yeah Harry, how could you have?"

It didn't sit right with him, no matter what they said. He would've had this problem over and done with yesterday, but instead they were going to have to go back in there, maybe getting more Aurors killed.

"Hey do you guys think..." Ron spoke in a low voice, as Narcissa was leaning closer, trying to hear, "dya' think she's makin' this spell up? Just for us to go fetch Malfoy for her?"

Harry considered it, but Hermione had the solution: "We're going to need some Veritaserum."

* * *

"My Lord," Snape bent low, kissing the hem of his robes.

"Rise, Severus."

He almost hesitated, knowing he'd be getting a good look at what he'd only halfway seen from the entrance. But didn't dare keep the Dark Lord waiting.

"The ritual has been completed."

Blood, lit by strategically placed candles, all around the room behind him, painted into symbols, pentagrams, Latin words, some symbols he didn't even recognize, that still leaked, only half-coagulated. "All I need is the _Itari_." Voldemort beckoned, making him tear his eyes from the most dramatic part of the scene, the naked body hung up in the middle of the room, hanging by his shackled wrists, toes a few inches above the ground.

Snape immediately held out the small beaker of _Itari_ potion, made with copious amounts of Draco Malfoy's blood. It was not a potion he had even heard of until being asked to make it two days earlier with the Dark Lord's own hand-written notes on how to prepare it. Voldemort carefully took it from him, removing its stopper. He sniffed it through his slit nose, hissing, "Very good."

"Thank you, my Lord," Snape said graciously.

"And the other?"

Snape took the other beaker from his pocket. A blood-replenisher.

"Feed it to him," Voldemort said, waving a dismissive hand, "see if it will save him. I might have need of him once more."

"Yes, my Lord," he bowed, though wondering if Draco could really still be alive, with this much of his blood covering the walls.

Voldemort swept from the room, leaving Severus to deal with the aftermath of his work.

As he slowly approached Draco, he could see his hair had been shorn off, only the shortest amount of blond fringe remained on his head. Up-close was even worse; he'd had the same symbols covering the wall carved into his body, everywhere. His chest, back, the sides of his neck, some going up into his hairline.

Severus surveyed the seeping patterns grimly. He very much doubted they could ever be removed considering the ancient black magic they'd been imprinted with. That is, if Draco somehow survived the next hour.

"Draco," Severus tried, lightly tapping a hand on his cheek. Unsurprisingly, he didn't respond to Snape's touch, just hung there silently, completely unconscious. He pointed his wand, "_Re__nnervate_!"

Draco's body twitched, but he didn't awaken. He was far past such a simple spell.

Snape grasped Draco's lower jaw, pulling it open gently and tilting his head back, emptying the vial into his mouth. He then pointed his wand at Draco's throat, waving his wand in tight small motions. The spell triggered Draco's muscles to start working. He pulled another vial out and repeated the process. Another one might kill him, but not doing it might kill him, so after a moments consideration, he pursed his lips and did it once more.

Severus sighed, stepping back. A few drops of the potion had slipped down Draco's chin but little else had changed. After three doses any person with more than a small chance of surviving would have woken up, complaining of pain. Draco did not.

Still, he breathed.

Snape looked up at the magical chains holding him in the air, conjured by Voldemort himself. He obviously didn't plan on letting Draco down anytime soon.

Severus stayed with him as long as he could.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Bastille_


	2. Radioactive

**NO CHURCH IN THE WILD**

**CHAPTER TWO **

_**Radioactive**_

The wind tossed his hair and he almost shivered from the cold, staring down at the Manor. It made an imposing figure in the moonlight, sprawling and impressive, with grass even now kept looking spruce and cut by magic long ago set in place. Various statues dotted the yards. Almost too bad about what was going to happen.

He made a questioning signal to Ron, far, far below, only visible because Hermione had put a spell on his glasses that gave them a binocular effect.

Ron, after a brief conference with the Aurors around him, returned his signal with a negative: _not yet_.

Harry sighed, continuing his watch. It couldn't be long now, though.

* * *

Narcissa lay in her bed, awake, worried. Wondering if her son was still alive. She hadn't been able to sleep for the three days since she'd been "rescued" from the Manor. Deep, dark, half-circles sat under her eyes.

The doctor was reading a book on a cot next to her, routinely looking up from it to wave a wand in her direction, checking her vitals. Apparently having Voldemort's spawn growing in your stomach earned you a 24/7 medical watch.

There were two Aurors in the room, talking, but they'd cast some sort of bubble-spell and she couldn't hear a word. She'd no doubt it pertained to the impending invasion of the Malfoy Manor. She looked away from them, feeling dismal, reaching for a glass of water.

Then, a warm feeling, deep in her chest. Growing quickly. The glass slipped from her fingers.

The doctor jerked at the sudden crash, the Aurors jumped to their feet and more came rushing into the room from the hallway.

Narcissa saw none of that though; her head was thrown back, her body tight like a bow, arching upward from the bed. She let out a deep sigh, and suddenly, light sprung from her skin, and she was glowing. Symbols were scrawling themselves across her body.

Voldemort had found her.

* * *

CRACK

Tonks appeared, breathing hard. "He's done it, Voldemort's activated the spell. Narcissa's glowing like a lantern."

Remus nodded, looking grim as he placed a hand on her arm. He yelled down at Charlie Weasley from the overhang of rock he'd been waiting on, safe above the dragons, "Are you prepared?"

"Yeah!" Charlie called, grip tightening on his magically-strengthened ropes as the sudden noise startled his Peruvian Vipertooth. Then quieter, "As much as I'll ever be for this."

He turned to the other dragon handlers, "Oy! Get movin'!"

* * *

Harry was the one who saw them. A large group of Death Eater's walking down to the lawn, before Apparating away. Exactly what Harry had been waiting for. In all likelihood, Voldemort had told them the location of Narcissa Malfoy, but, he being the only one who could Apparate from inside the Manor's walls, they'd had to move outside and past some wards.

He sent the signal down to Ron.

Ron and his group immediately turned their brooms and took off into the forest.

Satisfied, Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak and dove. He'd have maybe ten minutes of the Death Eaters being clueless, thinking their master was about to set things right, before all hell broke loose. He hoped to find Malfoy before that part, and make their escape at the beginning of it.

Reaching the lawn, Harry jumped lightly from his broom, cast a quiet _Reducto_, and it shrunk, small enough to fit in his pocket. He moved forward, skirting far around the patrols, making it quickly to the main doors, still open after the exodus of Death Eaters. The night air was fresh, and they didn't suspect an attack.

He'd already cast his own personal ward-avoidance spells and charms, along with Hermione and Lupin's help, but as he slipped through, a sick feeling of pressure overcame him. He could feel the ward's working against his defenses, trying to break through. He could also feel it was unsuccessful, but the pressure was immense. He pushed the nauseous feeling aside though, trying to focus as he made his way forward and through the doors.

He drew up short. In shock. Voldemort stood just fifteen feet away, conferring with his minions. Still very much inside the Manor.

Harry was rooted to the spot, completely unsure of what to do.

Their entire plan had hinged on the fact that Voldemort had already gone to find Narcissa. They couldn't take him on right now, not with his Horcruxes still out there. It would be pointless. Pointless deaths. A wasted surprise attack.

Harry had just about made up his mind to turn around, and race back on his broom to the others, hoping to stop them in time- when Voldemort's voice actually filtered through his own racing thoughts.

"I leave soon to join the troops," he was addressing the Death Eaters that loomed around him, "and reclaim what's mine. But first, I have something to attend to. Has the Malfoy boy been brought to my chambers?"

"Yes, my Lord," a voice answered. Harry recognized it as Lucius Malfoy when the man stepped forward, bowing deeply. It was one of the only times Harry had seen him around Voldemort without his Death Eater mask in place to hide his identity.

Voldemort looked down at the posturing figure, voice as cold as his eyes, "Very good. I depart."

Harry, still frozen to his spot near the door, took a minute to regroup. Thinking it out. The plan wasn't necessarily ruined. Voldemort still had six minutes or so to leave. And he'd be leading him to the exact spot Malfoy was hidden; a bonus he hadn't even thought of.

So, tightening the cloak around him and steeling his nerves, he followed the Dark Lord deeper into the Manor.

He stayed as far back from Voldemort as he could, knowing now was not the time for any confrontation. Never in his life was it as important to move quietly as it was now. As he kept his eyes on the black robes of Voldemort's back, he couldn't help a flashback to his first years at Hogwarts. Stealthily moving around Filch and his cat. And he'd thought that had been stressful.

Ahead, Voldemort disappeared through a large door at the end of the hallway.

Instead of risking getting caught by trying to slip inside immediately, before the door closed, Harry decided to try and wait him out. He'd give Voldemort a few minutes to come back out, and if he didn't... then Harry would have to chance it, go in and hope he'd Apparated away.

During his wait, Death Eaters passed by him, and Harry kept himself pressed with his back against the wall. One came close to brushing against him, but Harry managed to move first. He was very thankful for the large width of the Malfoy Manor halls.

Just as he was getting ready to move forward, and push the door open, another Death Eater appeared, so Harry slunk back, waiting for him to pass by. As he drew closer though, Harry could see the man was making a direct bee-line for Voldemort's chambers.

Harry watched the Death Eater, resolved. He'd just have to go in at the same time.

He prepared himself, pushing off the wall. Then he noticed the familiar walk, the aristocratic stance, and as the Death Eater pulled back the hood from their head, Harry finally saw the slick, black hair.

Severus Snape.

Harry felt himself baring his teeth, unable to control it, barely able to keep from drawing his wand on him right then and there.

Dumbledore's killer. Memories of that night came flooding back to him, and he almost missed his chance to slip into the room unnoticed, he was so wrapped up in his rage. But he caught himself in time and made it just as the heavy wooden door closed.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry said, just before throwing off the invisibility cloak.

His wand went flying, and a reeling Snape spun, eyes falling on Harry. For a brief moment he very much resembled someone who'd been put under the Stupefy hex.

"Potter," Snape sneered, eyes glancing over to where his wand landed, next to a cage holding a pale snake. Then he looked back to Harry, recovering, "You do realize the Dark Lord has launched an offensive to retrieve Narcissa Malfoy? And you waste your time stalking me into bedrooms?"

"I know what Voldemort's doing, Snape, and I'm not here for you. You just happened to be in my way."

"And you in mine," Snape returned with a death glare.

Harry kept his wand on him, feeling the loathing in his veins, wanting so badly to put Snape in his place. But this was an extremely inconvenient time for a showdown. His friends would be starting their assault any minute now. He couldn't waste his time with this, no matter how good it would feel to exact some vengeance. "Where is he?" Harry demanded, keeping his temper in check while he carefully looked around himself, searching for some sign of Malfoy. The only sign of life in the room so far was the snake. So where had Voldemort stashed him? He studied the walls, searching for a portrait maybe, perhaps hiding a pathway for a secret room.

"Where is he?" he said again, finally looking back to Snape. Luckily he did, because Snape was moving his hand in quick motions, thinking Harry distracted, doing a wandless, wordless spell that no doubt would have brought Snape's wand back into his waiting hand.

"_Stupefy_!" Harry roared, with more power than he ever had before with the simple spell.

It hit Snape hard and fast, driving him back a few steps, head lolling, before he collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

Harry surveyed the older man grimly. Hesitating as he thought on how to proceed.

Another day, he'd have it out with him, he decided. Finally have his vengeance for Dumbledore. But not now. Instead he took Snape's wand and snapped it in two, throwing the pieces on top of his lifeless body.

"Hey... wha's goin' on...?"

Harry jumped, spinning around, caught completely by surprise. The room was still empty behind him though.

Heart in his throat, confused, he glanced back at Snape, suspecting some trick- but no, the man was completely unconscious.

"Malfoy?" he said, scanning the room carefully, searching for the source of the drowsy voice. He decided to risk casting a spell Hermione had taught him, to detect cloaking magic, although it had been known to set off defensive-wards. Time was running short.

"_Descuvri_," he recited, flicking his wand, remembering Hermione's words: _up, left, then a quick __wave__ Harry_. In response, sparks of golden light shot out like a miniature fireworks show, flitting about the room, indicating there was indeed some strong spell in place there. Then the lights finally came together and fell slowly upon the caged white snake.

"What the- what's going on?!"

Harry stepped towards it while the sparks faded away, having done their job. And the snake, which before had been laying serenely in its cage, was now coiling around the limits of the glass, moving fast in little circles. "What's going on?" it wailed again in Draco Malfoy's voice.

Before Harry could decide his next move, he heard a woman's piercing scream from afar. Almost immediately followed by the amazingly loud roaring of a dragon. It reverberated against the walls around him. And Harry knew that the Aurors had finally breached the Manor, and the dragons were loose and doing what dragons do best. Destroying everyone and everything in their path.

Time to go. He rushed forward and flipped open the cage lid, and after a brief moment's hesitation of what to do or say, he just pointed his wand: "_Stupefy_!"

The snake- or, Malfoy, rather- went limp, and Harry grabbed him.

* * *

"Harry!"

"Over here mate!"

He blinked, feeling a little disoriented and sick after port-key travel, per usual.

"We were getting worried," Remus said, rushing over, Hermione and Ron right behind him, "you took longer than we'd planned... what do you have there?"

Harry was clutching tightly to the snake in one hand, having been afraid he'd somehow lose him during the port-key travel. "I had some trouble getting out of the Manor," he answered slowly, letting the port key fall and hefting the snake into his other hand to share the burden. "Sorry to worry you."

"Why do you have that Harry?" Hermione asked, adding anxiously, "Were you able to find Malfoy?"

"Is it a Horcrux?" Ron asked, looking at the reptile with distaste. "Is it dead?"

Harry shook his head. "Wait, first- did everyone make it back okay?"

Ron smiled. "Yeah, don't worry about that. And only a few injuries... mostly people getting a bit charred by the dragons when we were trying to get them to focus on the Manor," he rubbed at his own arm, which had a noticeably red mark, "Effin' hard to get a dragon to focus on _anything_."

"Yes it is, and what happened with Draco Malfoy?" Lupin cut-in with a sense of urgency, "we have to notify the others on whether we need to keep moving Narcissa or-"

"You can tell them to come back; Voldemort can't locate her anymore," Harry said, lifting the snake higher, "I've got Malfoy right here."

Lupin looked at him, the snake, then back again, appearing perturbed.

* * *

They'd kept her from her son for almost three weeks.

They didn't care if she raged or pleaded, barely giving her any explanations. When they finally did explain the travesty that had been bestowed upon her son, she'd taken it in without a word. But they still made her beg to be allowed to finally be reunited with him, citing their idea that it would be far safer to keep them hidden apart, so the Dark Lord would never get his hands on both of them at once. She didn't care about their precautions of keeping her and Draco apart. She'd needed to _see_ him.

Finally, they'd brought him in. In a cage.

"Give it here!" she'd snapped, at her wits end with these people and their "precautions". Her son, in some beast's cage!

But now, hours later, her anger had completely gone. Depression was taking over, and Narcissa wouldn't stop crying, holding the large snake against her and rocking. Forward and back, forward and back. Her son, for his part, just let her. His gray eyes only blinking slowly now and again. She'd been horrified to see the carvings along his white-blonde snake body. They'd stayed through a transfiguration spell, just as his dark mark had. They were exactly as the Dark Lord had described they would be, if he needed to do the location spell. Even though she'd held out hope that it had been a scare tactic, to keep her from trying to escape... inside she'd known the truth.

The medi-witch decided to come over and bother them. Trying to force more medicine on her, but Narcissa turned her face away.

"Oh, Mrs. Malfoy, try to take them... these potions will help, you must calm down and let your body rest, we don't even know what that spell did to y-"

"I'm tired of potions!" Narcissa suddenly screamed, lunging forward and knocking the brew from the doctor's hands. The cup shattered on the wall. The Aurors waiting in the hallway glanced in the room. "I won't take any more! Leave me be! I want to talk to the Order!"

"I told you, someone will come and talk to you, but for now you have to rest and-"

Tucking her chin down onto the snake's head, she glared, demanding, "What do they plan to do to help my son?"

"I'm not privy to that information, Mrs. Malfoy, but I'm sure they have a plan, they just need more time-"

"The only plan you people have is to keep me and my son apart! They feel no urgency to change him back, do they?"

The medi-witch huffed, sitting back on her heels. She watched silently as Narcissa blinked through her angry tears, wiping at them with a shoulder. Her family had been destroyed. Her son used as a pawn and discarded when no longer useful. They were no longer in the Dark Lord's clutches, but she didn't doubt it would be any different with the Ministry's people.

"Leave us be you useless ninny!" Narcissa finally hissed. "Leave us be until you have information from the Order."

The doctor threw her hands up in defeat, leaving the two alone and going back to her desk on the other end of the room.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Imagine Dragons_


	3. Don't Kick the Chair

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER THREE**

_**Don't Kick the Chair**_

At least Draco was getting better at it, she thought. Watching him try to write something with a quill clamped in his mouth, head turned sideways to scratch it down on the paper. He hadn't wanted to do it, turning away and not looking at her the first few times she'd suggested it. He probably felt the whole procedure he had to go through demeaning, but, for her, eventually he gave in.

They were in the same room she'd been in ever since she'd been taken by the Order and the Aurors. She was sitting with her knees crossed and Draco was in front of her. There was a new doctor on the other end of the room, rarely looking up from her parchments. Trying to give them a semblance of privacy, she thought.

The quill was out of ink. She took it from him and dipped it in the small ink pot resting on the night table beside her bed, before handing it back.

So far it read: _**How r u f**_

She tried: "How am I feeling?"

He dropped the quill to the paper. Nodding.

She rubbed a hand over her protruding stomach, hidden from view underneath her bed covers. Knowing he was asking about the pregnancy, specifically. Lately, she'd been getting terrible pains, almost like the spawn was trying to eat away her insides. It made her curl up and want to die. The feeling came and went, usually throughout the nights. Of course, she would tell him none of this. "The potions are helping," she eventually said.

Draco cocked his head, wanting her to say more, obviously. Maybe not believing her. The snake had a poker face her son had never been able to achieve.

Not wanting him to worry, she added calmly, "I can already feel the pain starting to get less and less lately. I'm sure it's only a temporary thing."

In truth, it was actually getting worse with each passing week and she could feel herself growing weaker. From the beginning, she'd demanded the ministry abort the pregnancy. End the demon spawn's life right now so no one would have to worry about what the Dark Lord planned to do if he ever got a hold of it. Of course they refused. She knew it was because they wanted to hold some sort of power over Voldemort. To have something that they could talk about in the papers to keep the peoples faith in their government since Harry Potter had denounced their minister and gone AWOL.

They didn't care about her. They didn't care about her son.

Draco had managed to pick the quill up again. Scratching away. She turned her head to see what he had so far.

_**I dont bel**_

"You don't believe me."

He nodded, but didn't drop the quill this time. Planning to write more, she assumed.

She hesitated, finally deciding on: "The potions really do help, Draco."

He put the quill back to the paper, but she held up a hand. "Wait, I don't want to talk about me anymore. What are they doing to help you?"

Draco pulled back, shaking his head.

"Nothing?" she guessed, her voice sharp.

A nod.

"They say they're still looking into it, right?" Narcissa continued, "They have their best people researching?"

Draco gave the affirmative.

She pursed her lips angrily. If only she had a wand, she felt she could fix him herself! How long was the ministry going to wait? The Order? When would they start taking his situation seriously? She could only imagine how fast they'd have righted the problem if it was Harry Potter in Draco's place instead.

One of the biggest hurdles they said was in their way was that they felt Draco might die if they changed him back. They believed Voldemort had transfigured him to prevent that happening. When she'd asked Draco, he said he had no idea. He'd been unconscious at the time. He would not write down for her what had happened to him during the ritual, but Voldemort had told her enough. It was a traumatic, horrible thing that had happened to him and she felt nauseous thinking about it, but she would not push him to talk about it now. They had so many things to deal with already.

So, it was possible the Order could be right about that one. Or they could be wrong, Voldemort could have transfigured him to hide him. Either way, it doesn't mean you should ignore the problem. You try to find solutions! She felt her hands clenching in the bed sheets.

Draco had been writing while she'd been consumed with her thoughts. He wasn't far enough along for her to understand though, so she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. For his sake. Because there was nothing she could do about it right now.

There was a loud bang from the hallway and Narcissa looked up. From the corner of her eye she saw the medi-witch had done the same. At first, Narcissa wasn't overly worried. She assumed it was something like that hapless niece of hers, Tonks, falling over her own feet again. Something harmless.

But there was shouting now. An explosion.

Draco lifted his head, quill still in his mouth, looking towards the open door. The medi-witch had risen from her desk and was hurrying over to it, face worried. A bright green flash, then Narcissa saw one of the Aurors who'd been stationed outside fall to the ground, wand rolling away from his lifeless hand. The medi-witch had jumped back in horror, shrieking in fright.

Narcissa didn't waste any time. She threw back her covers, jumping to her feet. "The Death Eaters have found us! Give me that wand!" she screamed to the medi-witch, "Quickly!"

The other woman seemed frozen to the spot, staring down at the dead Auror.

"Fool!" Narcissa growled, running forward and kneeling down to retrieve it herself. To her surprise, the medi-witch came to life then, grabbing her wrist before she could reach it.

"No! No, you aren't allowed!"

"Are you daft?! The Death Eaters will kill you as quickly as they killed that Auror!"

As they struggled, Draco came from behind them, surprising them both. He scooped up the wand in his mouth, slithering back behind his mother.

Narcissa finally wrenched herself away from the other woman, shoving her aside. She grabbed the door to the room and slammed it shut. The shouting and screaming was getting louder. She ran to Draco, taking the wand, quickly turning back and casting shielding and locking spells on the door.

Meanwhile, the medi-witch was beside herself with fear, having retreated to her desk to crouch behind it. Trying to crawl underneath.

Narcissa ignored her and quickly moved to the other side of her bed, flipping it over with a grunt. Using it as a shield and she pointed the Auror's wand at the door. Waiting. There was nothing else to do.

"We can't Apparate out of here," she said aloud to Draco. She did not know if he was aware of that or not and she didn't want him wondering.

"Oh Cissy, my dear!"

Dread filled her. This was it. They were here. Next to her, she felt Draco flinch as the sing-song voice called out once again.

Bellatrix was not far from the door.

She didn't have much time. "Draco," she said, looking at the snake who was her son. Taking in the elaborate carvings all over his body. Knowing she couldn't let him land in the Dark Lord's hands again. Knowing he'd be killed this time, as punishment for letting herself get captured. Or for amusement. "Please forgive me," she said, putting a hand under his chin, "I can't let them take you."

He blinked and only had enough time to attempt to pull back from her before she cast her spell, "_Stupefy_!"

The red light engulfed him before he had time to react and he went completely limp.

She lowered his head to the floor. Then gathering the blankets that had fallen around them, she carefully lifted Draco and placed him inside. "Things would go better for you if you opened this door willingly, dear sister!" Bellatrix called, her voice more amused than anything.

She felt her hands shaking as she tried to make the bundle of blankets containing her son look inconspicuous. She moved quickly to put it in the corner. Hopefully they wouldn't even look at it. Outside, she could hear them casting spells on the door. She took the remaining sheets and bundled them up, throwing them about the room at random so the one containing Draco wouldn't look as if it was hiding something. Then, at the last moment before the door was blown in off its hinges, she tucked the stolen wand in her sleeve. She had a plan for it.

"Cissy! Cissy, there you are, at last!"

Narcissa watched as a group of Death Eaters stomped into the room, Bellatrix in the lead. She was the only one not wearing a mask, and she had a big, crazy smile on her face, made more malevolent by a blood splatter across her cheek. "Oh, how pleased our Master will be."

Narcissa remained silent.

"Oh? Nothing to say? No tearful reunion for us?" she held her hands out, as if waiting for Narcissa to run into them for a hug.

Carefully, Narcissa started to slip the wand out of her sleeve as her sister cackled, seemingly amused at herself.

"Oy, lookie here," said one of the Death Eaters over her laughter. He had found the medi-witch. "We got ourselves a blood traitor here!"

He hauled her up from behind the desk by her arm. She was blubbering, stupid in her fear. "D-don't kill me! Please, don't k-kill me!"

Bellatrix's smile disappeared. She looked bored and annoyed by the whole proceedings. She was obviously more interested in retrieving Narcissa and returning her to Voldemort. "Get rid of her," she said dismissively, "we don't need any hostages right now."

"No wait!" the medi-witch shrieked. The Death Eater had shoved her away, and she banged off the desk. She scrabbled at it for purchase, desperation all over her features. The Death Eater was aiming his wand with a flourish. "No! The- the snake! The snake! Don't you want the snake?!"

Bellatrix looked over with more interest, grabbing the other Death Eater's arm to stop him.

"The snake? Do you mean Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes, Draco!" she said, breathing fast, looking encouraged, "I can show you!"

Bellatrix glanced at Narcissa, who was standing ram-rod straight now, glaring across the room at the panicked medi-witch.

She must have been watching Narcissa hide her son when she'd been underneath that desk.

Bellatrix was smirking, looking back. "Oh really? You would show us? Yes, our Dark Lord would probably like that very much... if we brought them both back at once..."

The medi-witch swallowed, licking her lips. "Well, I- just don't kill me, I can show you! If I show you, will you spare me?"

"Yes, yes, I think that can be arranged." She laughed, and a few of the other Death Eaters joined her. "You do seem like a useful one."

The medi-witch looked a touch relieved, and she started to turn, just beginning to lift her hand. "He's hidden-"

Narcissa screamed over the rest of the medi-witch's words, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

In a flash of green lightning from her wand, the medi-witch collapsed to the ground. But Narcissa wasn't watching, nor did she see the shocked face of Bellatrix turning towards her. She was already pointing the wand at her own stomach. Pressing it hard into the roundness of her belly. "Avada Ked-!"

"NO!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

"ACCIO WAND!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

All were yelled at once, and the wand went flying from her slack fingers while Narcissa was helplessly thrown back into the wall at the strength of the spells, head banging off violently.

Narcissa felt consciousness waning and knew her head was bleeding. That fool of a medi-witch had ruined her plans. She had never intended to be captured again.

Her last thought was only hoping they didn't find Draco. Hoping they didn't realize he was in the room with them. Above, she saw a fuzzy image of her sister standing over her before everything faded to black.

* * *

Ron had thrown the Horcrux locket into a random chair and Disapparated. Hermione was crying and holding Ron's blankets up to her chin as she huddled in another chair. Harry walked away from the scene, unable to bear it. Figuring it was about time to check-in with the Order anyway for a status update on the pregnant Narcissa Malfoy.

He stalked over to the fire in their tent, grabbing the bag of Floo powder off the hearth. Originally, they'd wanted to go with a different tent, and have absolutely no connection to the Order at all, but everything had changed when that Death Eater had kidnapped Hermione and told them what Voldemort was planning.

He stuck his head into the green flames, barking out the Order's headquarters address. Immediately, he was overwhelmed by frantic, angry voices. "What's going on?" he demanded. The elite fighters were in each others faces, not listening but determined to be heard themselves.

"Harry," Tonks said, pulling away from the arguments and running over to the fireplace when she noticed him, "Harry, he got Narcissa."

He felt his stomach drop. The Horcrux search had taken a deep nosedive, with them having no leads, no idea what to do next, and his fight with Ron... and now this. Now this. "How?" he finally managed.

"Good question," Professor McGonagall said loudly in her teacher's voice, carrying over the rest of the group, "although I think the answer is clear here. We have a traitor among us!"

The room fell silent. Harry watched as they all started eyeing each other up and down.

"Now, let's not be hasty," Arthur Weasley said. Except he said it almost hesitantly. Like, he himself believed McGonagall's words, but felt someone should disagree. "We don't know that for sure..."

Shacklebolt spoke, voice low, "I'm beginning to think the same way as Minerva. How else would Voldemort have found Narcissa without inside knowledge?"

"Maybe this is what Voldemort wants, us fighting with each other instead of focusing on-"

"Oh, I think Voldemort got what he wanted already!" McGonagall said, interrupting Hestia Jones bitterly. "He's got Narcissa hasn't he?"

Harry had enough. His job was the Horcruxes, and their job had been Narcissa Malfoy. Why couldn't they handle that? He felt let down and angry, and though he knew some of that was probably because of his recent fight with Ron, he couldn't help it. And he definitely didn't have time or the patience for their politics.

Frustrated, he pulled his head back from the fire.

Hermione had moved onto her bunk while he'd been gone. She'd been laying down, but at the look on Harry's face, she sat up. "What? Something happened?"

"Voldemort has Narcissa again."

Her eyes grew twice in size. "Oh no."

Harry rubbed a hand on his scar, staring at the floor between them. He didn't want to think about what they would do now. How this situation might change their plans.

Moments had passed in silence when suddenly, he heard the fire roar up behind him. He turned to see Lupin's face. "You left that meeting rather fast," Lupin said. He looked very solemn.

Harry shook his head. "I can't focus on that stuff right now."

Lupin surveyed him quietly. Harry could tell he wanted to ask for more information, to try and help him, but he also knew Harry would tell him nothing. Lupin was probably remembering the fight they'd had about it before, when he'd wanted to join them in their search and Harry had told him no.

"The meeting devolved quickly into a blame game Harry," Lupin said after a moment, "And unfortunately, I... I do think McGonagall is right."

"Right about what?" Hermione asked, settling down next to Harry in front of the fire. She was still holding one of Ron's blankets around her.

"That someone in the order betrayed us to Voldemort." Lupin explained, voice grim.

"You really think that?" Harry said with some surprise. He'd figured McGonagall was being paranoid before, just stressed and desperate to find a reason, and he was shocked to see Lupin feeling the same way. It was hard to think of the Order, people he considered his friends, and try to pick out someone who was actually secretly working for Voldemort. Even the thought of it depressed him.

"I do. Now I understand, more than ever, that Dumbledore had been correct to instruct you not to tell anyone about the specifics of what you three are doing." Lupin suddenly stopped, looking around. "Where's Ron?"

Next to him, Hermione sniffled, and all Harry could do was shake his head.

Lupin, alarmed, looked back and forth between them quickly. "Is Ron dead?"

"No!" he and Hermione both cried out at once.

"No," Harry said again, watching as Lupin closed his eyes in relief. "No, he's... he's just not here right now. I don't really... Listen, what are you guys going to do about Narcissa Malfoy?" Harry asked, wanting to change subjects.

"She's already four months along," Hermione pointed out, face grave. It looked like she didn't want to dwell on Ron's departure either. "And I can bet you he's not going to wait the full nine months either."

"Yes, we were thinking the same thing," Lupin agreed, "we figure we have maybe three months before Voldemort tries to induce labor. And that's just a guess. Harry, you haven't had any...?" Lupin was gazing up at his scar, and Harry realized Lupin was wondering if he'd had any visions about Voldemort and his plans.

"No, nothing about that."

Lupin sighed. "I thought so, just hoping..." he paused, his head turning in the fireplace. "Hold on a moment."

His head disappeared from view, and maybe half a minute passed before he returned to the green flames. "Just checking I was alone and the door still locked. There's something that I... well, let me say this. I believe someone in the Order is passing along information at the very least, to Voldemort. Perhaps being coerced under the Imperius curse, even. And right now, that someone knows that the current plan to get Narcissa Malfoy back is to use the same spell that Voldemort attempted last time."

Harry grimaced while Hermione exclaimed, with thinly veiled disgust, "They're going to make that Itari potion?! And do the blood ritual again?!" They'd learned a bit about it through Narcissa's description before recovering Malfoy. It was some of the darkest magic Harry had ever heard. A few notches down from how a Horcrux was created.

"I hope not, and I'm trying to convince others, but some are saying we should attempt it... but they don't even know the full ritual, and they still aren't sure how to brew the Itari. And of course, there's the matter of Draco Malfoy still being stuck in transfigured form."

Harry balked at that, very surprised.

Beside him, Hermione gasped, "They haven't changed him back yet? It's been months..."

"McGonagall couldn't manage it in all this time?" Harry demanded. With Professor McGonagall being one of the leading Witches out there on the subject of Transfiguration, he'd have thought McGonagall would have the solution long ago.

Lupin shook his head. "No, Voldemort did something that even she doesn't understand. She thinks it has something to do with the ritual. So, they have quite a few obstacles in front of them before they can try that ritual, or even i_mak__e_i the Itari potion, for that matter. And my suspicion is, that in all that time, the traitor and Voldemort himself is going to be aiming all efforts at killing Malfoy, to stop us recovering Narcissa."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. His whole life was supposed to be about Horcruxes right now. He didn't want to be thinking about traitors or Malfoys or anything else. The thing most on his mind at the moment, that he felt he needed to be focusing on, was how to destroy that stupid locket.

"And what do you want from us sir?" Hermione asked finally. She looked tired. He knew they were both long overdue for some sleep after his altercation with Ron.

Lupin seemed to be recognizing the same thing, that they were tired at least, because he was more hesitant, more apologetic sounding as he continued, "I know you guys have a lot on your plate, but, the plan Voldemort has to sacrifice this child he sired and take back his original body while gaining more power than ever... well I feel it's almost as important as whatever it is Dumbledore sent you to do." He took a breath, "anyway, we will be doing everything we can over here, going over all our options. But in the meantime, just until I can come up with a better hiding place, I'd like to keep Malfoy with you."

Immediately, Harry was going to say no and Lupin obviously sensed this, as he hurried on to explain: "I already took Malfoy, he's right here next to me. I've told no one. I don't trust anyone right now, except you Harry. Hermione." He met each of their eyes. "This is very important. No one will suspect that you have him. It really is the perfect solution, just to get him temporarily out of harm's way."

Harry frowned. He and Hermione shared a glance, but he couldn't tell what she was thinking. "Can you give us a minute?" Harry finally said to Lupin. His former professor looked surprised and a little disappointed that they felt they couldn't discuss this in front of him, but he promptly nodded and disappeared from the fireplace.

"Well?" Harry asked her, stretching out one of his crossed legs.

Hermione blew out a big sigh, shaking her head. "I don't know. I don't know, it's hard to even think about that Order stuff right now with all the Horcrux's still out there." Harry agreed, knowing exactly how she was feeling. "But I guess Lupin's right, it is important too. We can't just let some turncoat go and kill Malfoy or deliver him to Voldemort. And it seems like Lupin really thinks that will happen. I mean, he took Malfoy without even telling anyone... they'll be really mad if they find out it was him."

Harry hadn't thought about that part. Lupin was really putting himself out there right now, waiting in a locked room for Harry and Hermione to agree to take Malfoy while the other members of the Order were most likely freaking out trying to find out just where Malfoy went. "They might even think he's the traitor."

Hermione nodded grimly.

"He did say it would only be temporary," Harry said slowly, rubbing at his leg. Coming to terms with the idea, though he didn't really like it.

She pulled her blanket on tighter over her shoulders. "I'm... okay with it if you are Harry. I just don't want Lupin to get in any trouble."

"Yeah," Harry said, reluctantly, thinking of Lupin's situation. Having no one to trust. "All right."

He stuck his head into the still-green fire, feeling the sensations of Floo travel before he saw a small office. Lupin with his side towards the fireplace. Sitting at a desk, looking pensive, while a clear cage sat at his feet. It was hidden from sight in case the door was to be burst open, Harry assumed.

"All right," Harry said, causing Lupin to jump in surprise. He recovered quickly, turning towards him. "Short-term, right?"

"Yes Harry, only short-term."

"Fuck you."

Harry jerked, badly startled. He looked towards the source of the voice: the snake, Draco Malfoy, was turning his gaze between the two of them, curled up in a corner of his cage. His voice had been sullen and hard. Then, Harry remembered, of course he could understand Malfoy. He could speak Parseltongue. He'd completely forgotten about that in the months since recovering Malfoy from Voldemort.

"What is it Harry?" Lupin asked, concerned.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the office door. Followed by the knob being jiggled. "Hey!" came a muffled voice, full of suspicion, "Who's in there?"

Lupin moved quickly, grabbing up the cage and passing it over to Harry, who put his hand out for it. There wasn't any time for second guessing. Just as Harry got a hold of the handle, and felt himself whirling away, he heard the door burst open and Lupin saying in his best annoyed-Professor voice: "Don't believe it's good form to burst into a private meeting with Harry Potter-"

He didn't hear the rest. No doubt whoever it was was in for a thorough chewing-out. He pulled himself out of the fireplace, hefting the cage with him.

Hermione watched him set it to the ground. They were both looking down at the curled up snake who was glaring back at them. She seemed at a loss for words, tucking her hair behind an ear. Eventually, she settled on something polite enough: "Hello Malfoy."

Malfoy, for his part, didn't say another word, turning instead to gaze at the fire.

Harry left the cage near the fire, rising to his feet while Hermione followed suit. Were they supposed to leave him in it? Did the Order think Malfoy would try and escape? He didn't really get a chance to go over specifics with Lupin and he didn't think it wise to take Malfoy at his word if he asked him.

Harry and Hermione eventually made their way to their bunks. Harry collapsed into bed, trying to still his racing thoughts. Ron leaving. A traitor in the Order. Voldemort recapturing Narcissa Malfoy.

It was a lot to process.

* * *

_This chapter was named after a song by Dia Frampton_


	4. Viva la Vida

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_**Viva la Vida**_

He could hear sobbing. It made his thin lips curve into a smile. He waved a hand at the sniveling Wormtail and the little man raced ahead, shoving the heavy door open and holding it as Voldemort walked by.

The Death Eaters he had stationed inside stood straighter at his presence. The light haired woman herself straightened on her chair in surprise, pulling back from the little window she'd been gazing out of. The window looked down onto a stone archway far in the distance, set in the middle of an expansive grassy field.

"Quite a view isn't it?" he asked, gliding further into the room. "You'll see it up close in the future, I promise."

She was frightened, wiping quickly at her face. "Y-yes, my Lord."

"My, my... why the tears?" He came to stand before her, looking down. "I'd say I'm keeping you rather comfortable up here in this tower... A bed to sleep on. A chair to sit on. Armed guards at your side, always ready to protect you. Luxuries."

Narcissa Malfoy bowed her head. "Yes my Lord," she agreed quietly, "it's... it's more than I deserve."

"Oh, let's not play games here Narcissa," Voldemort laughed. It was a hissing, wheezing sound. He reached a hand out to press to her stomach. Yes, he could feel the little beast moving through her skin. It pleased him. "I don't do this for _you_, but for the... _child_."

She kept her head bowed. Only saying, "Yes."

"Dear woman," he said, lifting his hand and cupping her chin. Forcing her to look up into his face and meet his red, slit eyes. He could see her horror and revulsion, though she struggled to keep it from showing. "You mustn't fret. For the child, the little boy... I will keep you safe and comfortable here."

She struggled to maintain calm. "Thank you my Lord."

Suddenly, he held her chin more tightly, fingers clamping down on either side of her jaw. She tried to jerk away, obviously in some pain, but he held on. "But... if you ever try to kill yourself again," he hissed, jerking her head up, forcing her to meet him eye-to-eye, "I will hunt your son down and do worse to him then you can imagine." He let his nails dig into her skin, and her eyes watered.

He didn't move, staring at her. Letting his words sink in. He could feel the excitement of the Death Eaters behind him. The pain and dread of the woman he held in front of him.

"_Do you understand_?"

"Yes!" she cried out. "Yes I understand!"

He released her. She pulled back immediately, turning her face away, holding a shaking hand to her chin.

"Think of this," he said, voice low and dangerous, "if I found you Narcissa, held and hidden away in the darkest pits of the Order of the Phoenix's oh-so-secret hideout... how hard will it be for me to find Draco?"

* * *

Harry woke with a shout. In pain.

He became aware that his hands were already pressed to his pulsing scar. Must have done that in his sleep.

"Are you all right?" Hermione's hushed voice came from her bunk. The tent was still shrouded in darkness, he probably hadn't been asleep for very long. The fire had burned itself out though, all that was left was the subdued orange of its embers. Harry could see the shadowed cage over there next to it, but he couldn't tell whether he'd woken Malfoy too or not. "Harry?" Worry and drowsiness mixed together in her voice.

He rubbed at his head, teeth clenched. "M'fine," he managed. "Go back to sleep."

She was probably looking towards him in the darkness, hoping he'd say more. But he turned towards the side of the tent, staying quiet.

Lupin had been right, Harry thought. McGonagall had been right. Malfoy wasn't safe with the Order. Voldemort was very sure he'd have him in his clutches soon. Ready to be used against Narcissa as he pleased. Harry had felt his confidence. His certainty. And how could he be that sure unless he had someone on the inside?

Harry felt now he was forced to face the truth, and accept that someone in the Order was feeding information to the other side. He also realized he had to cut-off all communications with the Order immediately. They couldn't risk it. It was how he'd originally wanted it anyway, he reasoned. How Dumbledore had wanted it. No more status updates. No more Floo Network connection.

Tomorrow, he thought, rubbing his aching forehead, he'd have to ask Hermione if destroying a fireplace destroyed the connection. If not, they would need a new tent.

* * *

"Harry, wake up! He's gone!"

Harry blinked open his eyes, looking over to see Hermione staring at him. Confused, still half-asleep, memories of the previous day filtered in slowly and he immediately thought she was referring to what had happened with Ron. He muttered, "Yeah, I know."

She caught on at once: "No Harry, I don't mean Ron, it's Malfoy!"

He sat up, twisting to look past Hermione, his eyes falling upon the empty cage with its lid forced halfway off.

He pulled back his blanket, jumping to the ground. "Did you look outside?" He started slipping on his trainers. The drowsiness was gone. "See if he just wanted a look around or something?"

Hermione nodded, rubbing her hands together from the cold. "Yes, and I didn't see anything. Although it's hard to see anything in this rain," she said, putting a hand to her hair, which he now noticed was rather wet. "I called out too, before I remembered he couldn't answer me anyway."

Throwing a jacket over his shoulders, Harry grabbed his wand. "I'll go take a look. Can you start packing our stuff?" He slipped the Horcrux locket on over his head. They didn't have much time, they were supposed to keep on the move, leaving as early as possible. He tried to keep himself distracted from the thought that when they left, Ron wouldn't be able to find them again, even if he wanted.

She agreed though. Probably wanting to stay by the fire and get a break from the heavy rain still pouring down.

Harry left her, ducking outside. He checked the immediate area outside their campsite. He didn't see any signs of a snake slithering away into the wilderness, but then again, how would he? It was so overcast, and the rain so thick.

He made his way past their wards and Hermione's shields and out into the trees.

The early morning light did little to help him see anything in the bad weather. He reached up, pulling his soaked bangs back from his eyes, which had been clinging to his face behind his glasses.

"_Lumos_," he said, deciding to risk it. Just in time, he avoided a trip into a creek, illuminated by his light right before he was about to step over its edge.

He jumped over it. Then he remembered that a snake wouldn't be able to jump over it, and he didn't think Malfoy would go through it, it was pretty deep, so he backtracked and jumped back.

Keeping to its bank, he made his way through the tangled bushes and rocks.

Time passed as he walked along, peering into the brush.

He did not see any sign of the pale snake that was Malfoy. And as the rain kept falling and time kept ticking away... only then did he start considering what they would do if he wasn't able to locate him. Leave him? Make one last update to Lupin and let him know what happened and then Apparate away?

Eventually, a freezing Harry started making his way back, traipsing through the mud. He'd been out looking for at least an hour. And he had no idea how long ago Malfoy had made his escape from that cage anyway. He was probably long gone.

Shivering as he finally reached the campsite, Harry noticed the river they were next to was just about ready to overflow. They needed to leave soon.

Harry pulled back the tent flap, saying through chattering teeth, "C-couldn't find him Hermione. I think I looked everywhere in that fore..." but he trailed off before he could finish, words leaving him as he stepped in fully and saw Ron Weasley standing there, right in front of him.

He too, was soaked and shivering.

It took another second for Harry to process through his shock of seeing him at all, that Ron was holding a large snake. Somehow, he'd found Draco Malfoy.

"He just got here," Hermione said, turning around from the roaring fireplace and lowering her wand. She must have started the fire up again with some fresh wood. She was smiling. He realized he and Ron were grinning as well. He was still kind of cross at him, but he knew some of that was the influence of the locket he was currently wearing. And he'd damn sure have been crosser if Ron had stayed away. "Now, both of you need to get over here and warm up, and Ron you should start explain-"

Ron stopped her, losing his grin and shaking his head. "I'll explain, but there's something w-wrong with M-Malfoy," he said, teeth chattering, "I think he's sick or s-something."

Focusing his attention down at the snake, Harry noticed Malfoy wasn't moving. He just hung limply in Ron's hands. His eyes were half-lidded. "He d-doesn't look very good does he?"

"Get him by the fire," Hermione said with some real concern. "I think... aren't snakes cold-blooded? So they can't generate their own heat."

"I don't know, _C-Care of Magical Creatures_ was never really my strong suit," Ron replied glibly as they got down and gathered around the fire. Ron carefully laid Malfoy in front of it.

The fire felt amazing. They were quiet for a minutes, letting themselves warm up. Harry, clothes and hair still dripping, could already feel his shivers beginning to lessen in their intensity. He reflected on how right it felt to have Ron back at his side. All three of them together again.

"Mum!" Malfoy suddenly cried out, making Harry jump.

His body was twisting around a bit, no longer laying still. It was almost like he was coming back to consciousness. "Mum, watch out..." He was lifting his head now, waving it sluggishly from side-to-side. "Look out, they're coming... get up... you have to get up..."

Harry couldn't help a flashback to the vision he'd had of Narcissa last night, being threatened by Voldemort. He stood, walking over and grabbing some blankets from the nearest bunk.

"What're you d-doing?" Ron asked, he and Hermione watching him.

"He's having hallucinations," Harry replied grimly. Pulling them off the bed. "Like he's caught a fever or something."

Hermione was looking down at Malfoy with eyebrows drawn together. "It's impossible for snakes to have a fever. Cold-blooded remember?"

"Well yeah, maybe he's too cold then? I don't know."

Malfoy continued mumbling to himself, repeating the delusional warnings to his mother. His words were slurred and sloppy. Harry took the blanket and dropped it over him, which Malfoy took no notice of.

"How did you find him, Ron?" Harry asked, looking over as he sat back down. Wanting to distract himself from the feverish ramblings only he could hear. His friends were oblivious, only hearing a quiet hissing.

"How did you even know to look for him?" Hermione added.

Ron lifted a shoulder, wiping at the water droplets rolling down his cheek, still dripping from his hair. "Well, I sort of ran into him. I was trying to find my way back to the campsite, I was really lost, 'cause when I'd Apparated I was way off the mark. Miles off." He held up his hand, which they noticed was missing two fingernails. "Splinched myself too."

Hermione and Harry listened as Ron told them the story of how he was captured by Snatchers. Apparently gangs of them were roaming the country sides, trying to find muggle-borns or blood traitors. The ministry promised them gold for turning them in.

He'd escaped their clutches, barely. Apparating away.

"And I was walking along for hours, trying to find you guys, but everything looks the same out there. I was thinking you'd be gone by the time I got back anyway. Felt a bit hopeless." He stopped, looking up at each of them. "I... I'm real sorry about what happened. I was a right git."

Hermione held his hand. The one missing the fingernails. "It's okay Ron." She punched him lightly on the chest. "Don't ever make me run after you like that again though!"

He smiled back at her. "I don't plan on it."

Then he glanced over at Harry, smile slipping a bit.

The locket resting over his heart burned fiercely, and Harry started getting angry again. Ron's words from yesterday coming back with a vengeance, echoing in his head: '_We thought you knew what you were doing_!'

Then Harry grabbed it. Pulled it off over his head. He put the Horcrux on the ground next to him, immediately feeling lighter and more forgiving. "It's all right mate," he said. And he meant it.

Ron looked apprehensive though, staring down at the locket. As if he were worried it would come to life and grab him. "I can't wear that thing anymore. It—it effects me more then you two. Differently. Makes me think things..."

Hermione squeezed his hand, looking worried. "You don't have to wear it anymore. Right Harry? He doesn't have to."

"You don't," he agreed. He would bear the locket's burden by himself. It was worth it. What would have happened if Ron hadn't made it back in time? Harry didn't even want to think about it.

"No! No... please... stop, stop..."

Harry pursed his lips, wishing Malfoy would go to asleep, fall unconscious, bleed out, pretty much anything that made him shut up. He was much more comfortable thinking of the Slytherin as his nemesis, hearing his genuine pain and fear for his mother made him more real, more of a person than Harry was willing to deal with right now. Besides that, the last thing Malfoy would want was his pity, and listening to his desperate pleas was not something Harry had ever wanted to be privy to. It wasn't something Malfoy would want either, he was sure.

"So you just ran into Malfoy?" Harry said, focusing on Ron. He needed a distraction. "And you knew it was him? Straight off?"

"Oh that's right," Hermione said. "We didn't even know he was still transfigured until yesterday, how did you?"

"I didn't actually, but when I found him, he was halfway curled up under a log, on his side. Gave me a scare, seeing that big of a snake and I about left and kept on going, thought it might try'n bite me... but then I saw his mark, right here." Ron indicated his own chest area, waving a hand at it. "The dark mark. I figured, how many snakes have a dark mark on them? It's gotta' be Malfoy. And it's gotta' have something to do with the two of you." He smiled ruefully. "Anyway, I was yelling at him, trying to wake him up but he didn't move. Thought he might be dead for a minute there." He glanced down at Malfoy. Still making quiet sounds, only his head uncovered by the blanket. "But I got him and kept looking for you guys."

"That's good," Harry said approvingly, "you finding him like that. I wouldn't have even thought to look for a dark mark."

Ron rubbed at his neck, looking embarrassed. Like he felt he didn't deserve any praise. "Yeah, well... Now it's your guy's turn. What's Malfoy doing here anyway?"

They filled him in on what had happened the night before. As Harry finished their story, Hermione suddenly waved a hand, interrupting him. She was looking towards the tent flap door. "Water's coming inside." Harry followed her gaze, realizing the river outside had finally overflowed. A small growing pool of water had collected at their door. "We'd better get moving."

They stood and gathered what was left of their things. Thankfully, Hermione had gotten most of it packed before Ron and Harry had returned from the forest, so it didn't take long.

The boys did not seem eager to handle Malfoy at all, now that he was awake, delirious and moving a bit. Hermione noticed this and finally took the initiative, lifting Malfoy and the blanket, tucking it around and carrying him outside.

They followed her out into the rain, and Harry lifted his wand, casting the spell that took the tent down in rapid speed, rolling it up. Ron put it in Hermione's bottomless bag.

They held hands and Apparated away.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Coldplay_


	5. Bullseye

As you can tell from the last chapter, there are times in the story where bits of dialogue and descriptions from _Deathly Hallows_ are mixed in with my own. Obviously, all credit to JK Rowling on that.

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

_**Bullseye **_

Draco didn't feel right.

He felt feverish, but without the heat. Often there was a sensation of floating. Like everything around him was a dream. A dream he couldn't hold on to, slipping from one to the next. Hallucinations about his mum, or Voldemort. Or reliving the pain and horror of the blood ritual the Dark Lord had performed on him. Sometimes in the hallucinations Voldemort would be replaced with Harry Potter, who was casting the ritual spells while his two friends cheered him on.

"_You got it Harry!"_

"_Yeah, look at him scream!"_

He had flashes of lucidity though, suddenly coming back to himself.

He awoke to one of them, realizing he'd been placed on a cot. Then seeing Hermione Granger standing there, leaning down towards him, hands on her hips. It was disorienting. "Malfoy? You with us? Are you able to eat? Just nod your head..."

These times of awareness were becoming more frequent, and later on he awoke to Potter and Weasley, sitting at a table across from him, with a necklace laying on the table between them. Both were discussing ways and ideas of how to go about destroying it. Draco watched this for awhile, but didn't know what to make of it. Eventually allowing himself to drift off back to sleep.

When he awoke again, it was dark. Draco felt better, but still weak.

Through the shadows he could see Granger sleeping in the other bunk. In the bunk above her, two big freckled feet dangling in the air, Weasley being too tall to fit properly. He assumed Potter must be in the bunk over himself.

He slowly made his way to the edge of the mattress, carefully lowering himself to the ground. He slithered towards the tent flap door, wanting to see where he was now. Where they'd taken him. Before he'd reached it, he could already feel the cold seeping through and hear the wind howling outside. He pulled open the flap with his mouth, squinting his eyes at the sudden rush of snow that swirled around him and into the tent. Outside was an empty landscape of white snow.

"You're not going to try that again, are you?"

Draco turned at the hushed voice, letting the flap close. Potter was sitting up, looking towards him.

Draco realized with a jolt that Potter was waiting for an answer. That Potter could understand him. The whole Parseltongue thing. It seemed almost worse that after months of being unable to communicate with anyone, the only one who could understand him would end up being a person he could barely stand being in the same room with.

Draco had not been planning on leaving though, still feeling himself to be in a fragile state physically. Very sure the snow would do him in this time. "Maybe," Draco finally answered. "Haven't decided yet."

Potter reached towards the side of his pillow and Draco stiffened, just waiting to see the wand that was about to be brandished towards him. Another spell thrown at him he couldn't defend himself against.

But his hand came back up only holding his glasses, which he now slipped over his nose.

Draco still watched him, wary.

Potter didn't seem to take notice, climbing down out of bed. He walked by Draco, going towards the fireplace. "I don't know if you know about this," Potter started, voice still quiet, "but sometimes I have visions about things that Voldemort sees." He stared down at the dwindling flames, arms crossing. "Things he does."

Draco didn't respond. Didn't know why Potter was rambling about this to him, either. All the Death Eaters knew about the vision thing though. The Dark Lord made it out to be an advantage, as if he meant for it to happen. Draco had his doubts about this... deeply hidden though they were.

"Anyway, I just thought you'd like to know that I had a vision 'bout Narcissa."

He felt his breath get caught in his throat. Shocked. He hadn't expected this.

"_When_?" Draco demanded breathlessly, emotions getting the best of him. "When was this? What happened? Is she all right?" The questions came out of him like a rapid succession of spells in a duel. He couldn't help it. "What's he done to her?"

"It was days ago. The night when you first got here. He threatened her, but he didn't... he didn't hurt her," Potter leaned down, throwing another log onto the fire as he continued, "he's keeping her locked in a room somewhere, but he doesn't have any plans to... I mean, it's pretty clear he wants her healthy 'cause of the pregnancy."

Draco stared at Potter's back. The relief at this news overwhelmed him. All he'd been thinking about was the horrors his mother might have been subjected to, or was currently being subjected to. Since the moment he'd woken up from being stupified, it haunted him. But no, the Dark Lord hadn't tortured her as punishment. Potter said she was okay. He'd been imagining so many things...

"Well keep me updated," Draco finally said, when he felt he could speak properly. "If you have any more of these visions about her, I need to know."

Potter looked over at him then, face incredulous.

Draco didn't bother to respond to the look. He supposed Potter felt Draco should show him some gratitude. Instead, he moved away from the tent flap door, remaining silent. It was too cold. He'd begun to feel that same numbness that he'd felt back in the forest, in the rain. When he'd suddenly lost his ability to move or think clearly. He wanted to go next to the fire to warm himself, but he wasn't going to with Potter still there, so he headed back for bed.

As he slithered back under the covers, thoughts of his mum swirled around him. To be honest, maybe he _was_ just a bit grateful to Potter, but he didn't feel like sharing that with the git who'd kidnapped his mum in the first place, anyway.

He hoped she was still okay. Two days was a long time with Voldemort.

An involuntary shiver ran down him as he once again had a flash of hanging from that ceiling, wrists manacled above him, while Voldemort carved... and the blood... He blocked it out. Two days? No, a _minute_ was too long a time with Voldemort. And he knew that better than anyone.

* * *

"There's someone watching you guys."

Harry glanced over to where he could see Ron's footprints in the snow. Knew he was standing there, though he was hidden underneath the invisibility cloak. "You sure?" he whispered back surreptitiously.

"I saw something too," Hermione agreed from next to him, voice tight. They were pushing open the kissing gate that led out of the graveyard where he'd just seen his parents tombstones. Making their way out onto the icy street. "Over in the bushes, right?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "someone's over there I think."

They were approaching the church now, could hear the choir singing carols, louder than before. Harry was just thinking of taking refuge inside when Hermione grabbed his arm and led him down another street instead. The one leading out of the village and past the last of the cottages.

As they passed the multi-colored Christmas lights around them, Harry spotted it ahead. A dark house, at the end of the street. He hurried forward, leaving Hermione behind with Ron.

"Harry -"

"Look…" he called back, "Look at it, you guys…"

"I don't… oh!"

He could see it; the Fidelius Charm must have died with James and Lily. The hedge had grown wild in the sixteen years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in the dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that, Harry was sure, was where the curse had backfired.

The three of them stood at the gate, gazing up at the wreck of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flanked it.

They saw a sign marking the importance of the house. Giving the date of his parent's death and Harry's survival. Around that, magical graffiti of wizard's and witches who were showing their support.

Seeing Hermione's indignation at the graffiti, Harry just smiled. "Nah, it's brilliant," he disagreed.

"Yeah," Ron said, "it's nice to see people on our side for once... hey, heads up. Some old lady heading towards us."

Harry turned, watching the woman approach the fence. She shuffled and hobbled her way up to it. She kept her distance from them, only gazing up at the house. She could not be a muggle, or the house would have been invisible to her. He and Hermione shared a glance. Hermione was looking unsettled. But Harry was thinking maybe she'd been sent by Dumbledore... waiting for them all these months, since he knew they'd eventually show up here. Maybe. It seemed like something Dumbledore would do.

She had turned her gaze towards them. Harry swore he even saw her milky white eyes cross over to where Ron stood.

Following his instinct, he took a step towards her, asking, "Excuse me, are you... are you Bathilda? Bathilda Bagshot?"

She nodded.

She hobbled back, away from the gate, turning towards the way she'd come. Then she lifted a hand, beckoning them to come forward. To follow her.

"I think we should," Harry said in a low voice.

Ron agreed, "Let's do it. Besides, we can take her if we have to. Three against one."

Hermione nodded, and the three of them headed forward.

Immediately Bathilda resumed her shuffled gait up the street. Leading them past several cottages, she routinely glanced back to make sure they were still following. Finally reaching a yard that was nearly as overgrown as the one they'd just left, they went up a small path, waiting as she fumbled to open the door with her key.

She held the door for them as they went inside. Harry couldn't help but notice the stench as he passed her, nose wrinkling in protest. She smelled bad. Or maybe it was her house. It smelled old. Musty. Rotting.

He heard Ron cough, and he knew he wasn't the only one affected by the odor.

Bathilda was used to it by now, he supposed. She didn't seem to care about or even notice their reaction. Unwinding her scarf from around her neck, she revealed mottled, blue-veined skin. A tuft of white hair left on her head after removing her shawl.

The locket was burning against him as they silently watched her. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it knew it would soon meet its demise.

"Bathilda?" Harry questioned. He laid a hand over his shirt, atop the locket. Felt or imagined its growing heat.

Again, she only nodded, shoving past Hermione as if she hadn't seen her, going into the next room. Expecting them to follow.

"I don't know about this..." Hermione said after righting herself. Ron had appeared next to her, letting the cloak fall. He'd been ready to catch her.

"No, it'll be all right." Harry said, confident now after the locket had started pulsing. Coming alive. He felt this was where they were supposed to be. "I should have told you earlier, she's not all there. Muriel called her 'gaga'. And anyway like Ron said, the three of us can take her if she goes loony-"

"Come!" came the sharp demand from the next room.

Hermione and Ron both jumped. Harry looked towards the room suspiciously.

"That sounded like a snake!" Hermione said in shock, face paling.

"Yeah, sounded like Malfoy does," Ron agreed, pulling out his wand.

Having just spoken with Malfoy in Parseltongue last night, Harry had immediately recognized the language for what it was too. Bathilda was not Bathilda. Something had happened to her. Now the strange smells and decrepit house were making more sense.

"What should we do?" Ron asked, glancing back at Harry.

Harry didn't want to leave without getting some answers. The locket was still burning hot against him. It felt more dangerous though. Something very dark was going on here. But before he could answer Ron's question, a shuffling in the next room interrupted him. Then a loud clattering.

Bathilda appeared again, a saucer holding a candle clasped in one of her hands.

Harry had his wand trained on her, as did Ron and Hermione. "Who are you?" he demanded.

She said nothing. She seemed to be taking in the scene. The three wands pointed towards her face. Ron clearly visible now.

Plumes of smoke were making their way from the next room, Harry noticed. "Answer me!" he said, this time in Parseltongue.

She locked eyes with him. Her milky white, cataract-filled eyes with his. "Potter," she said quietly, "yes?"

Harry's hand tightened on the wand. He knew his middle-aged, balding, poly-juiced body did not fool her. The smoke behind her was growing rapidly and the room was beginning to feel hot. Maybe she'd dropped a candle in there. "Who are you?"

She ignored him, instead closing her eyes. Several things happened at once: Harry's scar prickled painfully; the locket twitched so that the front of his jumper actually moved; the dark, hot room dissolved momentarily. Then he felt a leap of joy and spoke in a high, cold voice: _Hold him_!

Harry swayed where he stood, coming back to himself. He didn't understand what had happened.

"Harry?" Hermione said, worried, "Are you all right?"

Bathilda took advantage of the distraction, suddenly throwing her candle at Hermione, who cried out when hot wax hit her cheek. Ron rushed toward her.

Bathilda though, was focused solely on Harry. She made a shuffling move, then with surprising strength, gave a great leap towards him. Only, when she hurtled towards him something strange happened. Her body seemed to come apart. Her skin became loose, and a giant snake was pouring out of where her neck had been, launching itself at him.

Harry tried to dodge but his shock at seeing Bathilda's body rip apart slowed him down- the snake hit him hard in the side, knocking the wand from his hand and the breath from his lungs.

He fell to the ground and the snake took advantage. He felt a heavy, smooth mass sliding on top of him. Making it hard to breathe. Hard to move. His wand was pinned underneath him, out of reach.

Ron and Hermione were launching spells at the snake now, but they almost seemed to bounce off it. Completely harmless. The snake, Nagini, was large enough that she held Harry still, slowly wrapping herself around him, while still able to dart her head forward, trying to bite his friends. Only striking air as they moved and dodged around her.

The room was filled with their spells bouncing off Nagini the snake, ricocheting back, uncontrolled. One of them hit a mirror with a crash and flying shards went about the room.

Harry was in two places at once: here, being held by the snake and there, flying through the sky without need of a broomstick or thestral, a metal heart was banging outside his chest. Filled with triumph.

He couldn't breathe. The snake. The smoke. He struggled to maneuver himself to reach his wand- he could feel it pressing into his spine- but he couldn't manage it.

"Watch out!" he heard Hermione cry. Black dots were dancing in his vision now.

Then, his scar seared painfully. More painful then it had done for years. "He's coming!" Harry squeezed out breathlessly. Coughing. He didn't know if they could hear him, but he used the rest of his air to yell: "Run!"

Harry felt his head might explode. He was in so much pain.

"Hermione- NO! AVADA KEDAVRA!"

All at once, the weight pinning him slipped off, the muscles loosening around him. The pain in his head amplified and Harry screamed. Or was Voldemort screaming?

Far away, he felt a hand wrapping itself around his wrist, pulling. People calling his name. But he was having double vision, being ripped into two separate consciences. Voldemort, landing on a dark cloud just outside on the overgrown lawn. Then back to himself, between Ron and Hermione who were struggling to pull him to his feet. _ "__H__is wand!" "__Run, run, run!" _Voldemort, feeling murderous, closer to the burning cottage where his precious Nagini now lay dead... his Horcrux...

Helpless, Harry slipped into memories that were not his own and lost himself.

* * *

At the same time Harry and the others had met Bathilda at Godric's Hollow, Draco Malfoy was back at the campsite and out of ideas of things to do. Feeling more refreshed than he had in days, he was getting a bit of cabin fever. He didn't dare try venturing outside again though. Not in this snow.

Eventually, after searching through the rest of the tent and finding nothing of interest, he'd pulled open a large beaded bag, rifling through its contents. It was out of sheer boredom really.

His mood perked up a bit as he recognized it as being magically enlarged. He'd owned a few in his days. Something in there was bound to have a bit of use.

Using his tail, he pulled out another small bag. From its weight and size he guessed it was Floo Powder. He tossed it aside. Useless to him, in his current state. He rummaged some more.

After throwing many items to the side (books, clothing, hairbrush, cooking utensils, more books) he finally ran into something interesting. A large magical portrait. It was currently empty, and being a portrait, it didn't have enough distinguishing features for him to guess who it might belong to. He decided to leave it be, paranoid it might have something to do with Voldemort. Draco didn't doubt it with who he currently was stuck with for traveling companions. He started to nudge it to the side.

"Oh, and what's this now?"

Draco reared back, meeting eyes with the painted person who had suddenly appeared against the muddy backdrop. The portrait wore a hat and had a bit of a pompous feel about him.

"Letting wild animals into your shelter?" the man said, looking up at Draco with scorn. Just as quickly, he seemed to dismiss Draco, instead taking interest in the room around him. The portrait's eyes were scanning everything. It looked like a painting that should be hanging in the halls at Hogwarts, but Draco did not recognize him. "A tent, eh? Just what I had suspected. No need to blindfold me anymore! You disrespectful children, blemishing works of art, no care at all..."

He watched as the belligerent portrait trailed off, finally falling silent. "Hmm." It seemed to realize there was no one else there and he frowned, giving a big dramatic sigh before returning his attention to Draco. Like he was sizing him up. "Ah-hah, now I know who you are! The transfigured snake! Is it- yes, young Draco Malfoy? My house's former seeker and once a Prefect. And here you are? My my how strange... oh Severus needs to be informed immediately!"

At the mention of Snape, Draco's paranoia felt justified. He immediately regretted taking the portrait out of the bag.

"Your whereabouts have been the topic of many a conversation, Mister Malfoy!" he was going on.

The portrait would tell Snape he was with Potter, who would immediately tell the Dark Lord, who would immediately send the Death Eaters out into every snowy wilderness to look for a tent like this one.

Draco's heart was racing as he rushed to lift the damn thing, to get it back in the bag, to try and erase what had happened- all the while it was still carrying on about Snape and Potter. Already the consequences of what he'd done were filling his head.

"No one would suspect this though! Hiding out with Potter? Very clever. Very Slytherin!"

Draco wasn't listening- he'd finally finagled the top of the frame into the right position for sliding it back into the bottomless bag. Just as he started to push it in, a strange feeling came over him. A coldness. What was going on?

He couldn't continue; the coldness had crept over him completely, like an icy grip.

He was shocked to realize that his entire body was shaking. Trembling. He hadn't noticed when it started. A strange buzzing was filling his ears.

"I wonder if Severus is back yet, perhaps I should go and check. He'll be exceptionally pleased to know-" the portrait stuttered to a stop, taking notice of Draco in front of him. "Merlin's Beard, what in the- what's wrong with you?"

He didn't feel any pain, but he felt _off_.

A deep heaviness around his body like nothing he'd ever experienced.

Losing his strength, Draco collapsed onto his side, white fireworks encompassing his entire vision. The buzzing was now a roaring. He couldn't hear the painting anymore- he couldn't hear anything but these thunderclouds reverberating in his head. The thunderclouds almost sounded like the Dark Lord, screaming. In a rage.

It seemed forever that it lasted. Eons before his senses began to clear.

"...in all my years! What sort of spell was that? Certainly not a normal transfiguration... some sort of deviation from that..."

Draco groaned, rolling onto his back.

"The indecency! Get something to cover yourself with!"

He opened his eyes, turning his head towards the voice. The portrait was glaring at him now, looking peevish. "I know you heard me boy!"

Draco squinted his eyes in confusion, turning away. What had just happened to him? He felt exhausted and pained. Like the aftermath of a Cruciatus curse. The need to sleep was pulling at him with a vengeance and he didn't know if he could resist it.

His bunk. He wanted to get to his bunk. Instinctively, he put his hands at his side, pushing against the tent floor to get himself up. It took a minute of sitting there, wobbly and unfocused, to realize what he'd just done.

Used his hands?

He looked down at himself and nearly felt like crying in relief. His body! Scarred and ruined though it was, almost unrecognizable as himself really. But it was him. He was back.

"Have you no modesty? In my day and age we cared about those sort of things!"

"Shut up," Draco growled, using his voice for the first time in a long time. It was very satisfying. "Just shut up."

He lifted himself to his feet, but it was too fast. His vision pinholed and he swayed. Far away, he thought he could hear the stupid portrait saying something, but he couldn't make it out, he was so lightheaded. He stumbled around, trying to find something to hold onto but he only grabbed air. Unconsciousness overcame him, and he didn't even feel himself hit the ground.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Dia Frampton_


	6. Things We Lost in the Fire

Two chapters today for you. Please review, thanks.

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER SIX**

_**Things We Lost in the Fire**_

Hermione tightened her grip on Ron's slipping wrist again. Next to her, she felt him trying to stay straight, trying to carry his weight on his own. She knew it was useless though, and she kept his arm slung over her shoulder. He was in too much pain, his leg too mangled.

She turned her focus from Ron to the floating body in front of them. She had to keep her wand pointed straight at Harry to maintain the spell to keep his unconscious body afloat, but she was having trouble. Having to support Ron and keep the wand on Harry was harder then she'd anticipated as they stumbled through the thick, nearly knee-high snow.

"We're almost there," she panted in encouragement to both Ron and herself. "I know it's not that much further."

He only grunted in response, completely focused on staying upright and conscious.

The wind howled, pushing against them, blowing snow in their squinting eyes and making it that much harder. They'd Apparated further from the tent then they'd meant to. Hermione knew it was lucky that they'd even managed _that_ though. Voldemort had literally been feet away from them at that last moment.

Her blood ran cold, remembering the eye contact she'd made with him, just as they'd burst from the window of the drawing room. Ron, crying out in pain after Voldemort roared some spell she hadn't recognized. Voldemort had been aiming at Harry, who hadn't known up from down, only clutching desperately at his head, but Ron had moved at the last second, leaping to cover him.

Hermione, the only one who had been left unscathed, had grabbed both their hands, pulling them to her chest- her best friends whom she loved, screaming and in pain- and she'd concentrated harder than she'd ever concentrated before in her life.

Voldemort's eyes had been on her as they twisted away. She'd never felt such evil. The absolute hatred coming from him was something she'd didn't think she'd ever be able to forget.

She stumbled, falling to one knee. Harry dropped, but she managed to level her wand hand again before he hit the ground. Ron, who'd almost topped over, clutched desperately at her shoulder, the blood flowing from his leg staining the snow as she struggled to regain her footing. "Sorry," she said, "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

He nodded, but didn't seem able to respond further than that.

She got back to her feet, and they resumed their trek. Ahead, she could just make out the spot where she knew the tent was hidden behind her wards.

When they finally reached it, Ron was done. He was absolutely exhausted, unable to even keep his head up anymore. "Take care of Harry first," he said, breathing deeply, letting himself collapse to the ground outside the tent. "I need... a second."

She didn't waste time, floating Harry ahead of her through the flaps, following closely behind him. Directing him towards a lower bunk, she was distracted and engrossed in the task and was very surprised when she tripped over a large object she hadn't noticed blocking her.

Still, she managed to get Harry to his bed before she fell, using her wand to magically push him the rest of the way. He bounced off the side of the tent and banged an elbow against the frame, but it was better than falling two feet.

Of course, she'd sacrificed her own knees so Harry would make it, and they throbbed painfully as she shifted. Turning to see what it was that had been in her way.

A naked body.

"Oh my god!" she said, putting a hand to her mouth in shock.

It took a moment, but then recognition flowed through her. Pale face, aristocratic features...

Draco Malfoy, somehow, someway, was back to being a human. He was laid out behind her, on his stomach. Face turned in her direction, one hand outstretched. His hair was so short, it was why she hadn't recognized him immediately.

His body was covered in deep, intricate carvings. A color of dark red that was nearly black. She could see they were all over him, just like it had been over the snake body. But it looked so much worse now. It looked fresh. Like it had been put there yesterday and they were ready to start bleeding at any second.

"All right?" Ron called, voice weak but worried.

She blinked, struggling to pull herself out of her surprised stupor. "Yes, I'm- I'm fine!" she said. Climbing to her feet, she stepped around the body. She could see his back rising and falling in time with his breaths. He was alive.

Rushing back to Ron's side, she left Malfoy where he was for now.

Pushing the tent flaps aside, Ron waited for her, head down between his legs, arms at his side. It was like he'd Splinched himself all over again. Shivering both at the cold and the situation, her only thought was on the Dittany she knew she still had left in her bag. She hoped it would work on this wound too.

She took both Ron's hands, and he acknowledged her with a small nod before she pulled him up and out of the snow. She led him carefully into the tent, warning him about Malfoy, and they walked around him. Ron was as shocked as she'd been, but his reaction much more subdued by his pain and blood loss.

He was clearly concerned though, looking back at the naked figure after Hermione led him to her own bunk where she made him sit. "I don't trust him," Ron said through pale lips. "It's one thing to have a snake-Malfoy hanging around with us... and how did he change back anyway?"

"I know. It's something to think about. But not right now-" she turned, pointing her wand back at where she'd left her bag, planning to call it over with a summoning spell, and found herself speechless as her eyes fell upon it. Her bag, open, and many of it's contents strewn haphazardly around it. Including the portrait of Phineas Nigellus.

Thankfully, it was empty, no Phineas to be seen. But just the sight of it like that had made her heart beat a little faster.

"_Accio_ bag!" she said, and it zoomed into her waiting hand. It was obviously Malfoy's doing, searching through her things like that. She didn't have time to think about it though, summoning the portrait and returning it to the bag, she then pulled the dittany from its depths.

Ron had grown more pale and his eyes had slipped closed. They shot back open though as she further ripped his already destroyed trouser leg. She could feel him watching her as she carefully upturned the little brown bottle, droplets falling upon his thigh. Green smoke billowed upwards, and the bleeding stopped. Just like before, new skin knit itself immediately, crossing from one side of the sizable wound to the other.

Hermione felt she could breathe a little easier now. Her relief that it had worked, not knowing the hex Voldemort had used, was immense. She'd been so worried. "You should lie down," she said, meeting his eyes, "rest."

Again, he glanced beyond her, towards Malfoy. He looked like he wanted to resist, to stay awake and help her deal with him, maybe make sure Malfoy didn't try anything, but even now his eyelids were drooping down. Blood loss had taken its toll.

She reflected on how Ron had saved both her and Harry's lives back in that house. Before jumping to Harry's aide, Ron had been the one to kill the snake. Surprised though she was that he'd used the Killing Curse, it had been the only way to save her. The snake had been aiming a deadly bite for her neck, and there was no way any other spell would have stopped it.

She put a hand lightly on him, pushing him back.

"It's okay Ron. He doesn't even have a wand."

Seeing her logic, Ron eventually acquiesced, allowing himself to sink down into the pillows. He had laid his hand over hers, still resting atop him. It didn't take long for his breathing to get heavier.

Hermione gazed at him for a few moments. Just feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her hand.

She finally turned away, looking over at the other bunk, at the side of Harry's face that was visible. He too, was fast asleep. She was very concerned about him, about the way he'd been unable to defend himself back at that cottage. Holding his scar, in obvious pain, before blacking out. And now he was deathly quiet and still. She had no dittany that could fix that.

Carefully, she slipped her hand out from underneath Ron's.

She wanted to get a closer look at Harry, but she couldn't stand having Malfoy just lying there, naked, so she reached up to the empty bunk where Ron normally slept, pulling the blanket off. Being careful not to touch him, she draped the blanket over Malfoy, making sure to leave his head uncovered. She didn't want to accidentally obstruct his breathing.

Now, feeling a bit less distracted, she focused her attention on Harry. Kneeling down next to him she realized she'd been wrong about him being silent. He was murmuring very quietly to himself, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead, rolling past his scar.

His face was stressed.

She laid the back of her hand on his forehead, noting that he didn't feel any hotter then usual, which was probably a good thing. But this wasn't a normal case of sharing a vision with Voldemort, that much was clear. He'd have woken up long ago if it was.

Harry jerked in his sleep, hand going to his chest. He was touching the locket.

Hermione immediately decided to take it off him. She reached a hand down his jumper, intending to grasp the Horcrux and pull it off over his head, but she cried out in surprise, wrenching her hand back quickly. It had burned her. The thing felt like it was on fire.

Harry moaned and muttered, and Hermione tried again, and she was able to hold on longer this time, but she realized not only was the locket amazingly hot, it was also stuck to Harry's chest. It would not budge.

She did a quick spell to cut the fabric to reveal the locket.

Again, she tried to pull it off, using both hands. She didn't let go, even through her pain, she was still pulling as hard as she could. Eventually, she slipped off, but the locket stayed.

Hermione held her aching hands in front of her, frustrated. Harry's face was contorting in pain and discomfort. She didn't know if this was from whatever he was seeing in his head, or the influence of the Horcrux locket. Either way, she wanted it off him.

Pulling out her wand, she decided to try a Severing charm. She knew it would most likely leave a mark, but she didn't think the Horcrux would let go of him any other way.

"_Diffindo_!" she said, and the locket jerked grotesquely against Harry's skin, but it did not release itself. She realized it would not come off so easily. She wrapped one hand on the burning locket, and pointed her wand with the other. "_Diffindo_!"

When the locket jerked, she pulled. And pulled. "_Diffindo_!"

Finally, it let go.

She threw it from her burning palm. It landed on the ground near the fireplace.

Harry had a bright, scarlet oval left on his chest where the Horcrux had been. She felt bad about that, but it was better than leaving it on him, although he didn't give any sign that he knew he'd been freed from the Horcrux. He was still muttering, same as before, and she could see his eyes moving beneath the eyelids. Lost in his visions.

In an effort to make him more comfortable, Hermione pulled the ruined jumper from his body. Tucked the covers up around his shoulders. She summoned a sponge to her hand and began wiping his forehead.

It was at this point that the adrenaline from everything that had happened began to leave her, and now her own exhaustion was making itself apparent.

She tried not to dwell on what would happen if they were suddenly ambushed by Death Eaters or the Snatchers Ron had told them about. The outcome wouldn't be in their favor, that much was for sure.

Distracting herself from the thought, she glanced behind her to look at Malfoy again. He was still out. All the boys were. The thought of having to take care of three young men, unconscious, and in need of medical assistance was more than a little overwhelming. She wasn't anywhere close to being a Healer. A doctor. All she had was dittany and a sponge.

She left Harry's side, deciding it was time to probably take a better look at Malfoy. His situation scared her a bit, because she literally had no idea what was going on with him. Had no books to read that would shed some light on the subject.

Settling down on her knees, she knelt in front of him. He had no pain on his face, she noticed. He looked like he was sleeping. That had to be a good thing.

Malfoy's neck was partially visible above the blanket, and she saw the carvings and lacerations went up it, some into his hairline. At closer inspection, they looked like a bastardized form of ancient Latin writings, mixed with something sort of similar to what she'd learned in Ancient Runes class. When he was a snake, everything had been miniaturized, and she hadn't been really able to tell what the symbols were.

But the most disturbing part of it all, in her opinion, was just the sheer amount that Voldemort had sliced into Malfoy's body. It must have taken ages. It was daunting to imagine anyone going through that.

Now though, Hermione felt there wasn't really much she could do for him. Just wait and see how he felt when he woke up, she guessed. She summon-charmed a pillow to her. After a brief internal debate on whether or not she really wanted to touch him, she finally leaned forward and lifted Malfoy's head, sliding the pillow beneath him. In response to the movement his eyelids fluttered and she thought he was about to wake, but he did not.

She went back to Ron and Harry's sides, checking on both again. Harry still moved restlessly while Ron slept.

Finally, with the boys taken care of, she turned to the mess that Malfoy had made of her belongings, picking up the clothing and books, tossing them into her bag. The Horcrux was laying amidst them. She lifted it with ease, noting how much cooler it had become now. It felt like normal metal. Briefly, she considered putting it on for safe keeping, but decided against it, and placed it in the bag too. She just didn't feel comfortable wearing it at the moment.

The next thing she picked up was _The Tales of Beetle Bard_, and she paused in her efforts. It was open on the very same page that she had shown Harry and Ron the other day. The page that had that strange symbol of a triangular eye with a slit going through it. The _very same _symbol that they had run into_ again_ at Harry's parents graveyard in Godric's Hollow.

She gazed at the little picture thoughtfully.

The fact that the book just happened to fall open on that very exact page... A coincidence, of course, but still... Hermione felt like this symbol was important. More important than Harry and Ron seemed to think. She set the book down on the little table they had, cleaning up the rest of the mess.

Once again, she opened her _History of Magic_ book. She felt more resolved in her efforts to find out the true meaning of the symbol now.

Hermione settled into a chair, reading. Routinely she would get up and check on each of the boys. She was tired and worried, but the studying helped her to reach a sort of calmness, and she welcomed it.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Janet Devlin_


	7. Elephant

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

_**Elephant**_

Harry pulled himself to consciousness, freeing himself from Voldemort's memories. Voldemort's point of view of when he murdered Harry's parents in cold blood. Then tried to kill Harry only to have it backfire on him.

Opening his eyes, he realized he was back in the tent, lying on one of the lower bunks, tucked into a blanket. He could tell that it was almost dawn by the stillness and quality of the cold, flat light beyond the canvas ceiling. He shook himself loose of the covers, looking for the others.

"You're awake," Hermione said. She abandoned whatever book she'd been reading, coming to his side. "How do you feel? You haven't been well."

"I'm all right," he said, noting with immense relief that Ron was laying in the other bunk. They'd all made it back. He would not dwell on what Voldemort had done to his parents. Not now. "We got away."

She filled him in on their escape. Their incredibly close shave with Voldemort. "I honestly didn't know if we were going to make it out of there, Harry," she said, voice full of fear, as if they were still back in the burning cottage, choking on smoke.

"The snake!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. He had a vague and confused memory, a killing curse, Voldemort being incensed with rage... "Nagini. Did one of you kill it?"

"Ron," Hermione said, "Ron managed it, to save me. It was about to bite me in the neck, and he used the Killing Curse."

Harry couldn't believe it. They'd gotten rid of another Horcrux. It hadn't all been in vain. "That's ace," Harry said, grinning, pulling himself up into a sitting position, "Is he sleeping?" He turned back to see the seriousness in Hermione's face and he felt his stomach drop. "What's wrong?"

She explained the hex Voldemort had cast, Ron jumping to take the hit for him instead. "It's worse then the Splinching he had, but the dittany seems to be helping, just the same. He's not going to be able to walk though, not for another few weeks, at least."

Harry took that in, quelling his delight and relief that they'd finally managed some headway in their Horcrux quest. Ron had more than made up for his brief departure in Harry's mind. He didn't even want to _think_ about what would have happened if Ron hadn't been with them yesterday.

"And the locket's in my bag," Hermione told him. "I could tell you were about to ask. It was stuck to you, I had to jinx it off Harry, I'm sorry. You'll have a mark, I think."

Harry inspected his chest while Hermione graciously went to grab him a new shirt. Indeed, there was a red, locket-sized mark. Just another scar to remind him of Voldemort, he thought tolerantly as he pulled on the white t-shirt she handed him. To get rid of another Horcrux, it was worth it.

Hermione settled onto the foot of his bunk, she obviously had more to say. "And now for the other, er, _surprising_ news," she started, pulling some hair behind her ear, "It's about Malfoy. He's... back."

Confused, Harry opened his mouth but Hermione rushed on to explain: "Back in his normal, human body. But there's something else. And it's really... odd. I've never heard of it happening to anyone else before."

Harry just looked at her, waiting. He really could not even begin to guess what she was talking about, because it was a surprise enough that Malfoy was back to normal. He didn't even know how they were going to deal with that.

"You're going to have to spell it out for him, mudblood. He won't get it otherwise."

Harry jerked his head up and saw Malfoy, standing in the tent doors. Hair shortened to an almost military-like buzz cut, he didn't even look like himself. This was emphasized by the clothing he was wearing: a mixture of Harry and Ron's, none of it fitting quite right, which was an entirely different look than his usual tailored robes.

"Don't call her that again Malfoy," Harry said, kicking off the blanket and rising to his feet. The shock of seeing Malfoy in person, in their tent, was overshadowed by his annoyance and irritation that he'd dare use that word against his friend.

"Why not?" he returned, nose and cheeks red from the cold. "It's not like she can understand me anyway."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Harry said, then without waiting for an answer, he asked Hermione while keeping his glare on Malfoy: "Where's my wand?"

Hearing that, Malfoy's fists tightened at his side. Harry responded in kind.

"Hermione?"

Harry looked over when there was still no answer. She returned his gaze helplessly.

"My wand?"

"Oh, is that what you said?" Hermione reached into her jacket, handing it over. "Harry, you were speaking in Parseltongue before."

He kept his wand low, but ready. He had no idea what Hermione was talking about. "What?"

"Just now. With Malfoy. I couldn't understand a word you two were saying."

Before Harry could think of a response, Ron suddenly piped up from his bunk, "Knowing Malfoy, I bet it wasn't anything worth hearing anyway." He too, was holding his wand in a pale hand, and he looked very distrustful.

Malfoy lifted his chin, looking down at Harry pompously. He was the taller one, but still, it didn't have the effect he probably expected. It only served to give Harry a better look at his numerous markings and it emphasized the misfitting clothes he was wearing.

Harry lowered his wand completely, sensing no threat here. "So what. Can you only speak in Parseltongue, then?"

Malfoy looked enraged. At the question? To be so obviously dismissed as a non-threat? Harry wasn't sure but Malfoy didn't answer, instead turning around to disappear back outside.

Silence followed his exit, until Hermione broke it. "He seems only to be able to speak in Parseltongue," she said, answering Harry without even knowing it. "It's very strange."

"Do we know how he changed back?" Harry asked, thinking that might clear some things up.

"No. It happened at some point while we were gone. From what I could gather from his notes," she waved a hand over at the table, and Harry saw some scribblings on parchment paper spread about, "he has no idea why."

He walked over to the table, lifting a paper.

_**no, it just happened**_

_**are you really this stupid**_

_**I don't know just a cold feeling**_

_**don't know**_

_**don't know**_

_**you're an idiot**_

"Very helpful," Harry commented, crumpling it and throwing it onto the fire.

"Yes, and I'm afraid I got a little impatient with him," Hermione said, looking embarrassed. "I took the quill away... that's when he went outside."

"I don't blame you," he said. He noticed the kettle on the little stove. "Did you just make this?"

She nodded, and Harry poured himself a cup of tea, considering what to do next.

Hermione joined Ron on his bunk where they conferred quietly with each other. She was inspecting his wound, and he said something that made her laugh.

Ron killing Nagini, Voldemort's arguably most dangerous and hard-to-get-to Horcrux had seemed to change all their outlooks. It made the tent feel lighter. Their task more possible. Even Malfoy being back couldn't dampen their spirits. He sipped his tea, looking back towards the tent flap door.

Outside was a completely different mood, he knew. Malfoy was probably freezing his bollocks off. The clothes he was wearing, Ron's and Harry's least used, most moth-eaten, didn't look like they'd be doing much to protect him from the weather. The only thing keeping him warm at this point would be his anger.

He sighed, rolling the teacup about in his hands. He had not expected to have to really deal with Malfoy. It wasn't what he'd agreed to with Lupin. He'd thought they'd be housing a snake, a creature easy enough to ignore. Now, though... have Malfoy with them, as they hunted for Horcruxes? A Death Eater? Also, just an all-around git of a person?

What else were their choices? Unfortunately, they couldn't return him to the Order. That would basically be handing him back to Voldemort. He tried to think where else they could take him. Who could house him safely.

Harry set the half-empty cup down on the table. Next to it, was the book of the _The Tales of Beetle Bard_. He put a hand on it, sliding it closer. Hermione had left it open on the page with the little triangular symbol. The same one she'd pointed out to him, again, at his parent's graveyard. He gazed at it thoughtfully, an idea forming in his mind.

"Whatdya' guys think of Luna's dad? Xenophilius?" Harry suddenly said, interrupting whatever conversation his friends had been having. He looked up from the book. "You trust him?"

Ron and Hermione shared a questioning glance.

"Well, he is always supporting you in The Quibbler," Ron said slowly, "so that's definitely a plus."

Hermione's brows were drawn together, looking from Harry to her book. She seemed excited though. "That symbol, you think it's important now too?"

Harry hadn't given much thought to it actually. The only importance it had to him was reminding him of Luna's dad because he'd worn it at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

"Because I'd actually had the same thought Harry! But I didn't think like there was enough evidence yet to suggest it... You feel he might know something about the symbol too?"

"Maybe," he answered her noncommittally, "but the reason I'm asking is, you guys think he would be keen to keep Malfoy hidden away for us?"

"Oh. Well, I don't think anyone would suspect him being there," Hermione said, slightly put-out that he showed such little interest in her own train of thought, "but who knows if he'd be willing to put himself in that sort of danger?"

"Nah, practically every article in The Quibbler is telling people they should be doing whatever they can to help Harry Potter," Ron said emphatically. It was clear he was eager to be rid of Draco Malfoy and Harry's suggestion was providing them with quite a reasonable way to do so. "I don't think there's anyone better for the job. He'd have to be a right hypocrite to say no!"

There was a rush of freezing wind and Malfoy reappeared. Face still red with a nose to match. He stalked right by Harry, straight to the kettle to pour himself a cup. His hands were trembling from the cold, so he made a bit of a mess, tea splattering onto the floor.

Not bothering to clean it, he took his cup and settled down by the fire with his back facing them.

"And..." Hermione was the first to break the silence Malfoy's sudden and icy presence had created, "and while we're there, we can ask him about that symbol. See what he knows."

Harry wondered why she was so interested in this symbol, and he could see the same question reflected in Ron's face, but he didn't confront her about it. His only goal was putting the responsibility of Malfoy well-being on someone else. "All right. Now we need to find out where the Lovegood's live. Do either of you know?"

"Yeah, they're not far from my place," said Ron. "I dunno exactly where, but Mum and Dad always point toward the hills whenever they mention them. Reckon it shouldn't be hard to find."

Harry pointed down at Ron's leg. "You're gonna' have to draw us a map or something, mate. You're not going anywhere on that."

Ron looked mildly frustrated at this, but he could say nothing in response. The wound was still too fresh and deep to be traipsing along on as they searched for the Lovegood's home.

"You're very naive to think he's going to agree to this. But I know where he lives," Malfoy spoke in Parseltongue, voice emotionless. "No need for a map."

The three of them turned to look at his back, hunched close to the fire. He must have been able to overhear their plans when he was outside. "You do?" asked Harry, ignoring Malfoy's earlier comment.

Malfoy laughed bitterly. "You really think the Death Eaters aren't keeping tabs on the editor of The Quibbler? Don't think they'd want to know his home address?"

"I think we'll have Ron draw a map, just the same," Harry said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

It seemed every time Malfoy opened his mouth, he was reinforcing to Harry he was someone who couldn't be trusted. A bigot. A Death Eater.

Harry brought Ron some parchment and Hermione produced her quill that she'd hidden away from Malfoy in her robes. Ron got to work creating his map while they made plans to leave the following morning. Hermione was excited about finding out as much as she could about that little mark that kept popping up, but she was trying her best not to be too obvious. It was clear Ron was upset that he wouldn't be going and Malfoy would. Harry guessed Ron didn't like the idea of not being there to defend her if Malfoy tried something.

Harry resolved to pull him aside at some point before they left tomorrow, just to reassure Ron he wouldn't let anything happen to her. That even without Harry looking out for her, Malfoy would be wandless, while Hermione had proven time and again to be quite the formidable witch.

While they discussed things, Malfoy continued to sit at the fireplace. He was running a hand over his shaved head, looking grim. Sometimes he would glance over at them, but mostly he'd just gaze into the flames.

It did not make Harry comfortable.

* * *

_This chapter was named after a song by Tame Impala_


	8. It Is What It Is

Please review! Thanks!

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

_**It Is What It Is**_

Draco couldn't release their hands any faster. "It'll be up there," he pointed, past a few rolling hills as he stepped away from between the two. "And we'd already be there if you'd trusted me instead of Weasley's crudely drawn _map_. Don't know if you can even call it that really-"

"Let's go," Potter interrupted, starting forward. Granger scampered up behind him, and after a moment watching them both, Draco slowly followed behind.

He'd had to side-along Apparate numerous times with them already, miles across the landscape. Starting at the tottering shack that Weasley called a home, then randomly here or there, as Weasley had marked down so many X's where he thought the Lovegood's house may be. Draco though, had a pretty good idea of where it was, but even as they Apparated about, Potter hadn't been keen to listen.

Draco thought it was stupid himself, because really, what was the worst he could do, point them in the wrong direction? It's not like he could confer with other Death Eaters to plan something. If he contacted them they'd kill him before he'd be able to say a word, he was sure. Not that he _could_ say a word to them with this whole Parseltongue thing...

"Oh, that has to be it, doesn't it?"

He looked to see Granger pointing upward, where a most strange-looking house rose vertically against the afternoon sky, a great black cylinder with a moon-like object hanging behind it.

Potter led the way through the gate, past the home-made signs and tacky decorations that scattered the unkempt and overgrown yard. Draco thought Xenophilius ought to be ashamed of himself for keeping it looking like this. Unlike the Weasley's, even he should be able to afford a house-elf.

"Hello! Who's that there?"

Draco and the others turned to see an older wizard dressed in gardening clothes, complete with a ridiculously oversized hat in the color of scarlet. As they drew nearer, Draco could see it was indeed the cross-eyed father of Luna Lovegood whom he'd seen before and recognized from the pages of The Quibbler.

"Hello sir, I'm Harry, Harry Potter," Potter said sycophantically, holding out a hand when Lovegood removed the large polka-dotted gloves from his.

Xenophilius shook the hand with enthusiasm, smiling. "Why, yes, yes it is! Goodness, quite the surprise! Good to see you again! But we must get you inside, all of you, it wouldn't do well to have you seen out here-"

He ushered them past the porch, through his front door. Draco found himself in a kitchen that looked like it had been decorated by a madman. The colors were overwhelming and he found the layout to be stifling and quite uncomfortable.

Lovegood busied himself with throwing together some tea and biscuits that Draco resolved not to partake in, since the man hadn't even removed his dirty apron before starting.

As this was going on, there was a loud, repeated banging coming from somewhere above them. "What the hell is that noise?"

Potter sent an annoyed look in his direction, apparently forgetting that he was the only one who could understand Draco. It's not like he'd offended the old coot. "Mr. Lovegood, is Luna here?" Potter asked, "Is that her upstairs?"

"What?" the old man said, not bothering to turn around, "Oh, no no, that's the printing press. Luna's still at Hogwarts for another few weeks before Christmas holidays. We're all fighting the good fight for you Harry! Did you know Luna and her friends at school have a little coalition against that Severus Snape? Oh, they're just constantly causing trouble for him." He turned around, holding a large tray. "I'm very proud of her. Please, follow me upstairs, and you can tell me why you're here."

Potter and Granger shared a glance. They looked quite pleased with themselves, thinking they'd found the right person to take Draco off their hands. Draco was pretty apathetic about it himself. Potter and his friends? The Lovegood's? Where he was didn't matter to him. None of it mattered to him. He really did not care. He only needed a wand, and he planned to get one at some point. When he had that, he knew, someway, he might be able to rescue his mum. It was a start, at least.

They went up a tight, spiral staircase, leading to yet another room filled with home-made monstrosities. Models of random magical creatures. Books everywhere. Draco almost felt like it was sixth-year at Hogwarts all over again and he was stuck in that damned Room of Requirement. Lovegood's house seemed to have the same amount of junk, anyway.

Lovegood settled them down in some chairs, and then he went to throw a tablecloth on top of his clattering, ancient printing press, muffling the distracting noises somewhat.

He then joined them in their circle, crossing his legs. "Now, what might I help you with Harry Potter?"

"Well," said Potter, glancing at Granger, who gave him an encouraging nod, "I guess it's about that symbol you were wearing around your neck at Bill and Fleur's wedding, Mr. Lovegood." Draco realized they were going to find out as much as they could about whatever that symbol was before carefully easing Lovegood into the oh-so delicate subject of housing a Death Eater for them. "We wondered what it meant."

"Are you referring to the sign of the Deathly Hallows?"

What followed this comment was perhaps the most tiresome forty minutes of Draco's life.

They questioned Lovegood a bit about what the Hallows were and then Draco was forced to listen to Granger read a child's fairy tale aloud. Literally. It was absolutely absurd. In the middle of it, he pushed himself out of his chair and walked to the window of the room, leaning on the pane, trying to control his irritation. As Granger eventually finished, he wondered if this was what Potter and his friends usually did when fighting the Dark Lord. Listened to children tales and then tried to make them fit into real-life situations.

Now they were discussing how the The Tale of the Three Brothers was actually about the Deathly Hallows. It went on and on. The absurdity of it. His impatience was building.

Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Potter, it's just a parable!" Draco spat heatedly, turning from the window. "Surely you can understand that?"

Potter and Granger looked up, surprised. As if they'd forgotten Draco was in the room at all, so engrossed by the fairy tale and their discussion of how it fit into the Deathly Hallows they'd been.

Lovegood's focus had also turned to Malfoy now. "Is something wrong with your friend's tongue? Oh, was he bitten by a Jaxwin? Those can cause a severe allergic reaction to the mouth region."

"No, he's fine," Potter said, trying to direct the subject back, "so is that all there is to the Deathly Hallows sir? The cloak, the wand, and the stone?"

"Indeed. Just like I showed you in the symbol," he said, but he hadn't moved his eyes from Draco. "You know, you look familiar, but I can't place it... a relative of yours, Harry?"

"Close," Draco replied sarcastically. He didn't think Potter and himself could look any more different. This man was a loony.

Potter seemed to realize that Lovegood was done on the topic of the Hallows, though. He sat up in his chair, scooting forward. "Actually, he's the other reason we wanted to visit you today... a favor to ask."

Lovegood no longer had such a friendly air about him. Now there was suspicion in his cross-eyes as he looked Draco up and down.

"My vision isn't the best, you know. It seems my mail order Gwindey-infused drops aren't working as quickly as they're supposed to at improving my eyesight, but..." his gaze stopped on Draco's forearm, which he'd been resting on the windowsill with the sleeve drawn up. Not on purpose, of course, but now it was too late and he didn't bother to pull it down. "Harry Potter, you... you didn't bring a Death Eater into my home, did you?" the old man's voice went high-pitched at the end, and he looked almost ready to start crying.

It'd been a while since Draco had seen Potter look as uncomfortable as he did right now. He was shifting in his chair, looking back and forth between Draco and Lovegood, face full of consternation. "Well, yes, actually..."

Granger jumped in to save Potter as he trailed off, words leaving him when he saw Lovegood's horrified face. "But he's not an active Death Eater! He's been placed in our care but we don't have the resources or the time to watch-"

"Not an active-? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you need to leave!" Lovegood cried out hysterically, "N-now!"

"But sir-"

"No, no, do you know how many death threats I get in the post? People that are angry that I dare talk badly about the Ministry! How worried I am for my Luna's safety, everyday? I can't have that- that monster in my home! He could call the other Death Eater's at any second! Oh, oh no... I've read how it works! All he needs is to put a wand to that mark, I know it!"

"No wand here." Malfoy held up his hands to show they were empty, but this only seemed to make the old man freak out even more. "I don't think your plan is working out so well, Potter."

"Shut up Malfoy!" Potter bit-out. He was on his feet now, trying anything he could to calm Lovegood. "Sir, you don't understand-"

"Why are you hissing the same way that Death Eater is?!"

"You've really done it now," Draco said. Lovegood had drawn his wand. He wasn't pointing it at anyone yet, but you could tell he was ready to.

"Maybe... maybe you're not really Harry Potter! Maybe this is a trick!"

"It's not a trick-"

"I don't believe you!"

"_Mr. Lovegood calm down_!" Granger yelled, sharply. She sounded almost exactly like an impatient McGonagall. The room fell into silence, there was so much authority behind that voice. "Now, you said you supported Harry Potter, no matter what, and that's why we came here today. We needed help."

Lovegood had the grace to look embarrassed now. "But I-"

"So, Harry will ask you, one more time," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "and then you have to live with yourself, and explain to Luna why you refused to help us, if that's what you choose." She looked over to Potter, giving him a nod. "Harry?"

Potter took a breath, then picked it up, "You talk about having death threats, Mr. Lovegood. And what do you think I live with everyday? My friends? You say one thing in your paper, but when I'm here, actually asking for the help that you tell others they should give me, no matter the cost... well." Potter stopped. He waved a hand in Draco's direction. "I need help. Will you keep him here, or no?"

Lovegood wouldn't meet his eyes. He stared down at his hands, and you could tell he'd only now just realized he'd been ready to brandish his wand against the oh so famous Harry Potter. He looked deeply ashamed.

"I'm sorry Harry, but he needs to go," Lovegood said, "if _you_ wanted to stay here it would be a different-"

Potter gazed at the old man silently for a moment. "Thank you for your time," he said eventually. "Goodbye Mr. Lovegood."

With that, Potter and Granger strode out of the room. Like they'd practiced it, it was such a smooth exit. Draco followed slowly behind. He could feel Lovegood's eyes on his back the entire time.

He wasn't surprised that Lovegood wouldn't take him in. He'd predicted that outcome to Potter back in the tent when they'd first brought up their naive plan. But it had really happened. He, Draco Malfoy, had fallen so far as to be denied a room by the likes of Xenophilius Lovegood. Truly, he was an outcast. There was no where he was wanted. Draco had been doing a good job ignoring that, or at least, remaining apathetic and uncaring about it, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling a little raw right now. Alone.

Potter and Granger were waiting for him at the threshold of the front door. He could see they'd been talking animatedly but immediately stopped as he approached.

Draco clamped down on his hurt feelings, feeling stupid. It was ridiculous. Why should he care? He was not one of them and he didn't want to be.

They made their way down the path, then he was once again forced to hold their hands so he could side-along Disapparate back to their campsite.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by The Highwaymen_


	9. The Monster

Sorry for the delay in this chapter!

Please review. I love hearing all your thoughts/opinions.

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER NINE**

_**The Monster**_

They'd moved on to another campsite. Hermione had said it was called The Forest of Dean and that she'd stayed here with her family once before. It was still a white landscape of snow, but with far less wind; the weather was fair enough that they could chat outside.

"Cowardly old wart!" was Ron's immediate reaction after being told what had happened. His injured leg was propped up on an old cushion he'd found, so it wasn't lying in the snow. "How did Luna get raised by _that _guy?"

Harry shook his head, unable to answer, having wondered the same thing himself.

After they finished bad-mouthing Xenophilius Lovegood, subject matter turned to the Deathly Hallows. Now that they were back with Ron, Harry felt they could really delve into the topic from all sides. Hermione had been incredulous from the moment Lovegood had started explaining it. When Harry had tried to ask him a question or get clarification on something, she'd jump in and try to explain it away. He'd been annoyed, especially now that he was wearing the locket again, but he knew that was just how her brain worked. Logical to a fault, so he didn't hold it against her.

"You were the one who wanted us to show some interest in the mark, Hermione," he pointed out to her now, as they sat outside the tent.

She looked back at him, exasperated. A bit annoyed that he'd reminded her of that. "Yes,_ interest_ Harry, not... not- well, it's no longer relevant!"

So they talked. The cloak, the wand, the stone. Ron and Hermione were really the ones who discussed it. Harry listened, chiming in here and there, but mostly sat in silence, taking in both their viewpoints, feeling the Horcrux pulse against his chest all the while.

Eventually it was decided by the two that, in the end, it was as Malfoy had pointed out earlier- a parable.

"It's just a morality tale," Hermione was saying, "it's obvious which gift is best, which one you'd choose-"

They spoke at the same moment: Hermione said, "the Cloak," Ron said, "the wand," and Harry said, "the stone."

They looked at each other in mixtures of surprise and amusement.

"Shockingly, Weasley's got it right on that one," Malfoy drawled from somewhere back in the tent.

Harry didn't bother to translate what Malfoy had said for the others, because Ron and Hermione hadn't heard him anyway, and they were already off and running again. Arguing now about who's choice was better.

The discussion eventually wound down to an end. Especially as the sun set and it dropped a few degrees.

Harry stood, and he and Hermione helped Ron to his feet, leading him inside.

"I'll take first watch," Harry said, wanting some time alone to think about all that had been said. Ron tossed him his jacket and Harry slipped it on over his and went back outside.

It was hours later when it happened. Mulling over his thoughts, tugging on the Horcrux chain distractedly, Harry almost didn't see it at first.

A bright silver light, moving through the trees ahead. Seeming to glide towards him... it almost looked familiar...

* * *

A loud whistling filled the air, destroying the formerly calm silence of the tent. Draco blinked himself awake, jerking up from the slumped position he'd taken, having fallen asleep in the plush chair.

Madly flashing colors filled the dark, and it took him a moment to realize both the flashing lights and the horrible noise were coming from the same source. A spinning object on the table across from him.

"The Sneakoscope!" Granger's voice cut through the darkness. "Ron, someone must be outside!"

Weasley already had his wand in his hand. "Harry!" he yelled. He was frantically trying to get up, holding the bunk frame to stay upright. "Hermione," he said when there was no answer, "help me check to see if he's still out there!"

Draco, also on his feet now, watched them totter over to the tent opening. Standing there, wandless, no clue of what threat lay outside, made him feel terribly vulnerable. He had half a mind to follow them outside, but the unknown danger stopped him.

The Sneakoscope was still doing its thing, and Draco badly wished he could set a blasting curse upon it to shut the damn thing up.

"Remove me from this satchel at once! I have a message to deliver! Terribly urgent!"

With a jump, Draco turned towards the muffled, barely heard voice. "Posthaste!" it yelled again, and even in his panic, he felt a spark of recognition. The voice was coming from a large beaded bag- the very same bag he'd gone through before, the night of his transformation back to a human. He knew it must be that same pompous portrait.

He was unsure what to do. He didn't trust that painting, he didn't want to go outside... so he stood there feeling useless in his indecision.

Through the bag, he heard the portrait make a noise of frustration and impatience. "You must go into the forest and follow the doe! Follow the doe so you can save your friend! Harry Potter is in trouble! No time to waste!"

Draco was shocked. Potter was in some sort of trouble? He remained unmoving for a moment longer. Didn't know how to react.

"He needs help! His very life hinges in the balance!"

Draco stared at the bag.

Deep down- very, _very_, deep down- a tiny little hope had begun forming inside Draco, back when he'd been stuck with the Order in the body of a snake, feeling utterly desperate. A hope that Potter would somehow manage to actually do something about Voldemort. If Voldemort was destroyed, it would free his mum. It would free him. It had been a thought that was always in the back of his mind.

But that wouldn't happen if Potter died right now, would it?

He shook himself loose of his hesitancy. He could at least warn them, he supposed. Draco ran to the opening, pulling it open. "Hey!" he yelled, waving at Granger and Weasley, who were standing close, peering into the darkness. Like they were trying to find footprints. It was snowing though, and who knew how long Potter had been gone.

Granger looked over at him, but Weasley remained with his eyes scanning the trees.

Draco wasn't sure what to do now that he had her attention though. How to tell her...? He pointed out into the forest, eyebrows up. "Go," he said, feeling a bit daft, because he knew his voice was coming out in weird hisses and she had no idea what he was trying to say, "he's in there! Look for a deer!"

Granger looked where he was pointing, then back at him, appearing immensely confused.

Draco grit his teeth in frustration, unsure of how to proceed. Disappearing back into the tent, he thought for a moment, then grabbed the bag, ripping it open and pulling out the portrait. Holding it out in front of him, he rushed back outside.

"What are you doing!?" Granger exclaimed with fear in her voice, which surprised him. "No, no no!"

"Malfoy you idiot!" Weasley had his wand pointed at him now. "Put it face-down on the ground!" he demanded.

Draco ignored him, flipping the painting around to himself, wondering why it wasn't yelling about Potter needing help anymore. To his utter dismay, all he saw was a brown backdrop. The painting was empty.

"Malfoy that portrait is a direct link to someone close to Voldemort," Granger said, voice tight, "put it down so it can't see us!"

"I'm trying to help you, you morons!" Draco yelled, fed-up, throwing the painting hard into the snow. They were both staring at him now, full of suspicion. Like he was the one that had set off that Sneakoscope. Like he was the one that had done something to Potter.

Draco left them there, giving one last look at the trees before stalking back into the tent. What could he do? Go into the forest by himself? Run around aimlessly looking for a deer without even a wand to protect himself?

Just as the thought of a wand crossed his mind, his eyes happened to fall onto Weasley's bunk. There was something tucked into the corner, obviously meant to be hidden under his pillow, but Weasley had gotten up in such a rush, he must not have realized...

Draco really couldn't believe his eyes.

He rushed forward, throwing the pillow aside in his haste.

A wand!

It shot out a small burst of green fireworks as soon as he'd wrapped his hand around the thin, dark, stick. A real wand! He was ecstatic. As he examined it from all angles, he wondered why and how Weasley had gotten his hands on an extra wand. But he didn't really care. He had a wand!

As he internally celebrated, he could hear Granger and Weasley outside- wondering what to do, if Potter was okay, why had Malfoy done that with the painting?

Draco slipped the wand into his pocket. He strode back to the opening, walking right by Weasley and Granger. Not bothering to look at them.

"Where are you going?" Granger said from behind him, confused. "There's probably someone out there!

"Malfoy, seriously-"

"You shouldn't go out there alone-!"

He slipped through their wards and the voices were immediately silenced. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the campsite was now completely invisible. He tightened the oversized jacket he was wearing around himself and kept moving.

Into the trees he went. It was a very dark night, and the further he progressed, the darker it got. Finally he pulled out his wand, whispering, "_Lumos_."

It was quickly becoming apparent to him that it would be impossible to find any creature in this forest at night. A deer _or_ Potter.

He stumbled over a tree root that had been shadowed and unseen. A nearby tree trunk saved him from a fall, but he was beginning to become disheartened. To feel a bit foolish. What was he playing at? Trying to do the hero role? He sighed and pushed off the tree, unsure if he should start again or start thinking of a new plan that involved Apparating somewhere far away and leaving Potter to his fate.

As he toyed with that idea, he saw something. Not too far off, a flickering light.

"_Nox_," Draco said quietly, and his wand went dark. Slowly and carefully, he made his approach forward.

It was the deer the portrait had been shouting about. Had to be. He recognized it as a Patronus, though he'd only seen a few in his life. He'd never seen one as dimly lit as this. It looked like it was about to disappear at any second. It was kicking a foot, staring directly at him. It appeared like it wanted to come forward, but something was stopping it. As if there were an invisible line it couldn't cross.

Draco came nearer and the deer turned, tossing its head. It was flickering madly, but he could tell it wanted him to follow, just as the portrait had indicated it would. He wondered what he would find. Was Potter in some sort of duel with Death Eaters? If he was, Draco didn't know what he would do. He'd have to hang back, of course. See how it was playing out first.

The deer moved swiftly and Draco was nearly at a jog. It seemed as if the Patronus was on a time-limit. Like it knew its power was almost gone. He had to use his wand light again to keep from tripping over more roots and bushes.

The Patronus was dimming drastically and by the time it led him to a clearing with a small pool of water, all that was left of it was just the vaguest of outlines. Draco saw it fade away before his eyes. Its time had come to an end.

He looked around, nervous, wand held at the ready. His ears were straining, but all he heard was the soft sounds of the forest around him.

Then, a great splashing that made him jump, followed by a desperate gasp and more splashing.

Draco rushed forward and saw churning water, pale, white hands struggling madly. It was Potter. This was why the doe had led him here. All around the edge of the pool were claw marks in the snow and mud, where Potter had obviously been trying to get enough purchase to pull himself up, unsuccessfully.

Draco reached down and grabbed his wrists, pulling. It was just enough that Potter got another gasping mouthful of air, but the majority of his face was still underwater. He pulled harder, but it seemed to be to no avail. Then, by some force unseen by him, Potter was jerked back again. Bubbles came from his nose and mouth as he was ripped down into the pool, and out of Draco's grasp.

Through the crystalline water, he saw Potter's hands go to his neck, scrabbling, trying to find a hold. It took a moment, but then Draco realized what he was going for. A golden, sparking chain reflecting in the moonlight, pulled taut across his windpipe.

He held his wand out, down in the water, taking careful aim for a severing charm. It was no use though, Potter was thrashing way too much, making it impossible to have a clear shot.

He sat back, frustrated, watching Potter's struggle.

Dark thoughts reared up inside him though, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help thinking, calculating, if their might be advantages to him if Potter died in this way...

The water churned and splashed as Potter writhed against the chain.

Sighing, Draco pushed the thoughts aside, refusing to explore it further. He despised Potter, but he didn't necessarily want to watch him die. Not while his mother's life still hung in the balance and Potter's knowledge and melodramatic Gryffindor tendencies might make the difference.

He leaned forward again, plunging his arm down into the icy depths, trying to get another shot.

Potter surprised him though, one of his hands wrapped around Draco's wrist and gave a mighty and desperate pull. In that split-second Draco scrabbled back for something to hold onto, but it was useless- he was yanked down into the water.

There was an immediate reaction of protest from his body. His lungs seemed to be paralyzed and his nerves were like ice. Instinctively, Draco's legs gave a kick, wanting to go back up to the surface to escape this agony. But instead, he controlled the knee-jerk reaction, allowing his body to sink down next to the drowning Potter.

He didn't hesitate; reaching forward quickly, grabbing the chain of the egg-sized bauble that was holding Potter down. He aimed and wordlessly cast a spell. Red light shot from his wand and the chain shattered into pieces.

Potter weakly kicked, trying to swim now that his anchor was gone. But he didn't move much. Draco roughly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him along.

They broke the surface.

Potter was gagging, swallowing, and making all sorts of disgusting noises. Draco moved them to the side where the curve into the pool wasn't as drastic, and he shoved Potter up and over the edge. There was no resistance from him and he flopped down onto his bare stomach like a fish and remained still, groaning.

Draco made to follow him, freezing beyond anything he'd ever felt before, but just as he began to lift himself he saw something from the corner of his eye. Down in the water, below him. A silver sword was laying at the bottom, the hilt covered with ornate markings and glittering jewels.

It must have been what Potter was after.

"_A-Accio_ sword!" he said, teeth chattering. The weapon remained frustratingly still. He considered leaving it where it was, but decided he should just go grab it. He was still in the water, and it was obviously worth something. Enough that Potter was willing to nearly drown for it, anyway.

He dove back down and as he grabbed the sword's hilt, he wondered if maybe it had the same jinx that Potter's necklace had been under, and he was afraid he'd made a stupid mistake. But no. The sword came up easily and with no resistance.

He broke the surface again.

As he sat across the pond from Potter's nearly-naked shivering form, Draco noticed the pile of Potter's clothes, over at the edge of the treeline, still dry. Sitting in the soggy mess of his own clothes, which were getting colder by the second, Draco bitterly considered how he might have done the same if Potter hadn't pulled him in.

Potter's hacking and gagging was finally subsiding a bit.

"Well, that was s-stupid of you," Draco said in a drawling tone, examining the sword in his lap, "going off without even telling your friends."

Potter turned his head, looking over at him. Shock was written all over his features. "_M__-M__alfoy_?"

Draco managed a smirk, pleased at the reaction.

Potter stared for another second, seeming to gather his wits about him. "D-did y-you see who cast that d-doe?" he asked eventually, shivering madly. His voice was low and raw, like his throat had been damaged with all that coughing.

Draco looked back down at the sword, appreciating the length and sharpness of the blade. "Actually, no I didn't. I thought you had."

A deathly pale Potter struggled to his hands and knees, crawling towards his clothes and things. He looked utterly exhausted. And now Draco could see the long line of blood dripping from his neck, staining the snow. The chain had cut deep. No doubt he'd been in that water, battling for air, for a long time.

Potter started pulling on his shirt and trousers. He was shivering so badly he was having a difficult time of it. Draco's own trembling wasn't as severe, but he knew if he didn't get back to the campsite and next to a fire soon, it wouldn't be long before he was as bad off as Potter.

"How d-did you find...? Where's...?"

"How did I find you?" Draco guessed when Potter seemed too tired to finish his questions. He set the sword by his side, rubbing at his shortened hair, thinking his head had probably never been this cold in his life. "Where's Weasley and the mud-" he stopped himself, not in the mood for another sermon about the word. And Potter would probably start one, even in his current condition. "Granger?"

"Yeah."

"I followed the Patronus. And your fellow _Gryffindors_," he drawled, "are waiting for you nice and warm back at camp. Not very _brave_ of them, hm?"

Potter shook his head, but it wasn't in answer to Draco's sarcastic question. It was more of a dismissive gesture.

Draco laughed. Of course Potter didn't believe him. "Well, don't worry, you can ask them yourself!" he said. "See what they s-say."

"I will," Potter replied calmly and quietly. Most likely, he had no energy to get worked up, with a throat too sore to raise his voice. "Where's the locket?"

From his pocket, Draco produced the palm-sized trinket. It was gold, decorated with glittering green stones around a fancy and ornate letter 'S'. It felt exceedingly hot against his hand, like something that was alive and suffering from a fever. He put his other hand around it, cupping it to warm them. "What's inside this thing?"

"Don't know yet," Potter said, voice sounding full of gravel, "nothing good though."

Draco held it in both hands. The locket seemed to pulse with power. And, he thought maybe... yes, he could feel a subtle movement. Like a heartbeat.

"Toss it here." Potter had his hand held out.

Draco ignored him. Almost didn't hear him. Interestingly enough, he didn't feel cold anymore. The ornament was heating him all over, like a cloak being wrapped very tightly around him.

From far off, he thought he heard Potter say something again, but the locket's pulsing heartbeat demanded his attention and he couldn't look away. For some reason, he felt like this locket was the answer to all his problems. A confidence he'd never felt came over him and Draco licked his lips, saying in a whisper, "We should open it-"

As soon as the word 'open' crossed his lips, the locket's two sides came apart with a click, the little doors swinging wide to reveal a set of brown eyes staring back at him.

He was entranced. The eyes were looking directly into his soul, he felt. And somehow it made him feel stronger. "I know your desires..." it said calmly and smoothly. Draco thought it was a voice that sounded almost like his own. "You should have left him in the water... let him die... then delivered his body to the Dark Lord... he would have granted your mother her freedom... you, your own immunity..."

Draco listened, mouth slightly open. Hearing his own dark thoughts that he'd had earlier, but ignored, now spoken aloud filled him with a certainty that it must be true. For the price of Potter, he and his mother could be _free_, free from the war, from Voldemort, from everything. "It's not too late... lift the sword, now!"

Draco couldn't resist. Keeping his eyes on the locket, he put his hand down to his side, searching for the hilt- but it was gone.

He managed to tear his eyes from the entrancing gaze and looked up. Potter was standing above him now, shivering madly, but he had taken the sword. He held it at his side.

"_Your wand_!" the locket reminded him, voice sharp and demanding. Draco could not resist its orders. The voice no longer resembled Draco's, it was now more like Voldemort himself, and he couldn't deny it.

Desperately he searched the ground around him, but found nothing. He started feeling at his pockets.

"_Accio_ locket!" said Potter's voice.

The locket strained at his fingers and though Draco tried to hold on, it broke free. "No!" he yelled. Had that been the locket or him? Both? Draco didn't know.

Instead of trying to catch it, Potter took the sword in both hands and swung. The glittering, golden piece of jewelry was sliced in two. The separate halves went flying off in opposite directions, little vapors of smoke in their wake.

Draco blinked, feeling like a heavy veil had just been pulled off his eyes. The stifling heat he'd felt was gone. He was now aware of being absolutely freezing, his sodden clothes like ice upon his skin.

Worse than that though, was losing the confidence he'd had. For two minutes he'd had an all-encompassing assurance that everything would be okay and it was the best he'd felt in months, maybe years. So _p__ositive_ that he and his mother would somehow both get out of this alive and safe.

Now he was left with nothing. There was only Potter, staring down at him in silence as the night wind blew snow around them.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Eminem_


	10. Wake Me Up

Sorry for the delay!

and for the person who asked: the chapter titles/songs are chosen because of either certain lyrics that I feel pertain to the events of a chapter, or just the overall _feel_ of a song. I think this story would make a bitchin mixtape myself, lol

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER TEN**

**Wake Me Up**

Harry, on watch outside the tent, rubbed at his neck, holding up Hermione's hand mirror as he admired the magic the dittany had already worked, pleased to see it was almost completely healed. The new skin tender still, but only a few shades lighter than the rest.

His friends had been very shocked upon seeing him carrying Godric Gryffindor's sword when he and Malfoy returned from the forest yesterday. They'd rushed up, demanding an explanation. When Harry explained Malfoy's side of the story, that he'd only been trying to tell them Harry needed help, Hermione's reaction had been to apologize profusely. She'd reached into her pocket and gave Malfoy her quill, forcing it into his hand and telling him he could have it, just in case something like that ever happened again.

Malfoy had accepted it, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. Harry knew he was still thinking about what had happened back by that pool of water, and when Harry went on to tell them the second part of the story, he hesitated. Unsure of how to describe the bit where Malfoy had been possessed by the Horcrux. For that's what it had looked like to Harry. Malfoy's eyes had even flashed a scarlet-red color while listening to Riddle's voice; the smooth, silky words trying to convince him to kill Harry.

He still wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it. Malfoy had just gotten finished saving his life, going through a good deal of trouble to do so, and Harry didn't take that lightly. But almost immediately Malfoy had then turned around and been ready to kill him.

Eventually Harry had given them a somewhat vague explanation: that the Horcrux had affected Malfoy, pretty badly, but that Harry had managed to destroy it without much problem.

"Right, well, thanks for saving Harry's life," Ron had said to Malfoy after a short pause, though he hadn't sounded very grateful at all, more begrudging, "now give me back my extra wand."

At this, Malfoy exploded.

It had surprised all of them. They'd been calmly sitting around the fire- but as soon as Ron demanded his wand be returned, an enraged Malfoy reacted by jumping to his feet, looming over Ron and unloading insult upon insult. Insulting Ron's mother, his house, his lack of money, his Quidditch skills- everything.

Recovering quickly from his shock, Ron struggled up to his feet too, face growing red with anger. Even though he couldn't understand a word, he'd already had six years of putting up with Malfoy and his unending taunts and he didn't need a translator at this point.

"-barely qualify as a Wizard!" Malfoy spit, looking almost out of his mind, "A family of dirt poor, worthless, scumsuckers! Low status, the lot of you, no magical skill worth noting -!"

"-just a Slytherin piece of trash!" Ron was yelling at the same time, cheeks flaming, "Yeah you saved Harry but just look down at your arm! That's all that you are and that's all you'll ever-"

They continued, getting louder and angrier. It escalated to a point where Malfoy took a step forward, looking ready to tackle him, and Ron swung a fist.

"_Protego_!" Hermione cried just as Harry had been about to jump in.

An invisible shield erupted between them before any hits could land. The force of it knocked them both stumbling back, and while Malfoy caught himself easily, Ron's bad leg crumpled and he about toppled over before Harry managed to catch him.

Malfoy's hand was clenching spasmodically on his wand and he was breathing hard. He looked off-balance, like he was barely keeping it together, face going through a myriad of emotions. The possession of the locket had obviously affected him very deeply.

Harry looked away, back to Ron. "He'll keep the wand for now, all right Ron? Just... just for now, okay?"

"Harry, I don't trust him!" Ron said, pushing from him and standing on his own feet again, "I know something else happened out there, with that locket, something you're not telling us-"

"He saved my life, Ron," he reminded him in a rasp, pointing at the deep, bloody gash that wound across his neck, "I was a goner. I wasn't going to last another minute in there when Malfoy showed up."

Ron gazed down at the mark. He looked distressed, and Harry knew it stemmed from the fact that he hadn't been the one to find Harry. To save his friend. Disconcerted that it had been _Malfoy_ of all people. Finally though, Ron gave a reluctant answer. "All right. All right, then. Fine."

Malfoy still looked like he was having trouble. He'd watched the exchange in silence. "Have your guard dog take down the shield so I can go to bed, Potter," he said, voice straining as he nodded his head towards Hermione. He avoided eye contact with all of them. "I'm a bit tired after pulling your arse out of that water, and all."

All of this went through Harry's head as he sat outside the tent. He put down Hermione's mirror, looking out into the midday landscape. They'd finally Apparated somewhere that wasn't covered in snow. But it was muddy and wet.

Ron and Hermione had left, going to the nearest town under Harry's invisibility cloak to try and find some food and to give Ron's healing leg a work out at the same time.

There were a lot of question marks surrounding events that had happened so far on this journey. Who had sent that Patronus, leading him to the one thing they needed to destroy Horcruxes? Had it really been Phineas Nigellus in that portrait, warning them that Harry was in trouble? Ron and Hermione hadn't seen him, and the portrait had been left in the snow long enough that the canvas had been destroyed- no more Phineas visits for them. What about the Deathly Hallows? And how had Malfoy changed back into a human?

"Hey," Harry called back over his shoulder, "busy?"

"Oh yeah. Got loads to do in here." It took a few minutes, but Malfoy eventually appeared at the tent opening, holding open one of the flaps and looking bored. It was probably the only reason he'd come out there. "What," he asked flatly, looking down at him.

"Explain to me," Harry said, "exactly how it happened when you turned back into a human. I know you said before-"

Malfoy's lip curled. "This isn't _story time_, if that's your fancy go read one of Granger's books. I'm not in the mood."

Harry felt determined to clear up at least one of these mysteries, and he wouldn't let it drop so easily. "Malfoy, it's important. Was there anything that stuck out to you?"

"The whole event stuck out to me," he said scornfully, as if Harry was the stupidest person he'd ever met.

"Just think about it for a second," Harry ground out, trying for some patience that he wasn't sure he had in him. "Anything strange? A bit off?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "No, no I don't think so, just an everyday event to be turned back into a human when you've been stuck in the body of a snake for months upon month-" Suddenly a spark of recognition flitted across his face and he stopped his sarcastic ranting.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"Actually, I heard something..." He trailed off, looking a bit unsure. "But I mean, I thought it was just me imagining it at the time..."

"Yeah?" Harry said, sitting up straighter. This was exactly what he'd been hoping for. "What did you hear?"

Malfoy shook his head, looking annoyed at himself. "No. Never mind."

"Stop," Harry said. Malfoy was retreating back inside. "Say it, what did you hear? It could mean something."

"Fine, fine, I heard the Dark Lord, all right? I – I thought I heard him screaming."

Harry now felt his own lip curling at Malfoy's use of 'the dark lord', but he decided not to comment. "You heard him screaming? What was he screaming?"

"Just screaming, Potter!" he said impatiently. "Like he was really angry. I don't know, I was probably imagining it, like I said-"

"No, wait!" Harry interrupted him, thinking quickly. "I think, I think that was the same time when we killed Nagini! Yeah, it must've been! Maybe that's why the spell broke on you- Voldemort was too distracted to hold it properly... Too angry." He wished Hermione was here to confirm if that was possible. Malfoy was staring at him uncomprehendingly. "You've never heard of distraction causing a spell to fail like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Malfoy said uncertainly. Then his face changed, looking bitter. "But the spell didn't fail completely did it? I'm still speaking in Parseltongue, aren't I?"

"Well, maybe Voldemort managed to re-focus at the last second, just enough to keep that bit on you." Harry was sure he'd found the answer. "I'd bet he probably doesn't even realize you're not transformed anymore."

Malfoy considered this. "Maybe," he said again, seemingly unwilling to agree with him. Perhaps on principle.

Harry was confident he was right though. It made perfect sense to him. Malfoy left him alone after that and Harry resumed his watch. One mystery down, he thought, pleased.

Sometime later, Ron and Hermione returned. He could see their rucksacks were filled moderately with provisions. "How's the leg, mate?" Harry asked, watching Ron limp along towards the tent.

Ron looked down, making a show of bending it. "It's getting there," he said, giving his thigh a light slap.

"He's doing loads better Harry," Hermione said, smiling. "I barely had to help, it was just on the way back-"

"Yeah, it started cramping up," Ron finished for her. "Good thing I had my little crutch here..." and he leaned his arm atop Hermione's head, striking a funny pose with his other hand on a jutting hip. She laughed, rolling her eyes and slapping his arm away.

They went inside to eat. During their meal of eggs, bread and tea, Ron pulled out his old radio. He twirled the dial about, trying to find a program that wasn't ripe with Ministry of Magic propaganda. Failing this, he flipped it to music instead, and Christmas carols played quietly in the background.

"We saw three separate groups of Snatchers Harry," Hermione said, sipping from her cup. "It's like they're recruiting new members every day."

"It's that reward the Ministry is promising them," Ron said confidently, through a full mouth of bread, "it's got people coming out in droves."

"Oh, you saw your brothers out there, eh Weasley? Strapped for cash?" Malfoy commented, laying back on his bunk, practicing small spells with his new wand. "Ready to turn you in for a bit of gold?"

Ron turned his head sharply, glaring over at him. He seemed to know Malfoy had said something rude and he growled, "Stuff it, Malfoy!"

Malfoy sat up immediately. "Yeah? Come and make me-"

"Shut up!" Harry ordered, fed-up with it.

Malfoy gave a sneer, but fell silent. As he laid back down, resuming his little firework show, Ron stared daggers in his direction. The tension between the two remained palpable. Harry was quietly grateful Ron chose not to ask for a translation for all the Parseltongue barbs aimed in his direction and he wondered how the four of them were going to survive in the same tent together. It was a different dynamic now that Malfoy had a wand, there was no denying it. Before, he hadn't been much of a threat, just a bit of a nuisance. Like a poisonous snake without fangs.

Well, now he had his fangs back.

Harry still wasn't sure if he'd made the right choice, letting Malfoy keep the wand... but every time he came back to same thing. Malfoy had decided to run out into the forest to try and find him. Alone. He'd saved Harry's life.

So, though he wasn't completely comfortable with the idea, he would at least give Malfoy the chance to earn his trust. For now, anyway. Even if Malfoy seemed determined to sabotage himself every step of the way with that piss-poor attitude of his.

"You know Potter," Malfoy suddenly spoke-up in a drawling voice, a stark contrast to just a moment ago, when he'd sounded angry enough to cast an Unforgiveable, "that symbol you're so obsessed with? The Deathly Hallows?"

Harry looked over. "What about it?"

"I've just realized I've seen it before," he said, "it clicked in my head, just now."

"Where?" Harry asked, interest piqued by the unexpected statement.

"In a little book I doubt you've read. It was decent. My mum and I were provided it by our Healer back when we were with the Order, and with nothing else to do I probably read it half a dozen times or so, it's really quite an interesting read-"

"What's the book Malfoy?" he interrupted, growing impatient with the back-story. Ron and Hermione were looking curiously at them.

"What's he saying?" Hermione asked, eyes going back and forth between them.

"Hold on," then unconsciously slipping back into Parseltongue: "the book Malfoy?"

"Rita Skeeter's new best seller, I'm sure you've heard of it? _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_?"

Harry felt distaste and anger welling up in him at the mention of that woman's name. Not to mention her nauseating book. His face must have been showing how he felt because Ron asked him, "What's the matter?"

Harry told them what Malfoy had said. "Oh!" Hermione surprised him by jumping to her feet, running across the tent and over to her bag. "Harry, I completely forgot! When we were at Bathilda Bagshot's- but when we got back, you two were hurt and Malfoy was- anyway I forgot all about it! I haven't even looked at it yet." She turned back to them, the infamous book clasped in her hands. Harry could see Dumbledore's picture was on the cover, looking ill-tempered, out of sorts and very old. "I got it from her sitting room. Where did you notice the symbol Malfoy?" she asked, going over to his bunk, rifling through the pages herself.

Malfoy grabbed it from her without bothering to sit up. "Do you often pilfer things from people's homes you're visiting?" he asked idly.

When Hermione glanced over at Harry for a translation, he just shook his head.

Malfoy took his time flipping through the pages until he was about halfway. Then he pointed, handing it back. "There."

Hermione lifted the book up to her nose, peering down at whatever Malfoy had indicated. "I don't see anything, it just looks like-" She made a noise of frustration, pulling out her wand, "_Lumos_!" Then: "Oh! There it is! Yes, it's looks like the symbol..." She turned, going to sit back down next to Ron while Harry moved his chair closer.

She held her finger to the page, her wand still shedding light upon it. "See? He's right."

Harry leaned over, twisting his neck to get a better view. There was a photograph of a letter Dumbledore had written. Harry recognized the headmaster's long, slanted writing. He scanned his eyes downward where Dumbledore had put his signature. For a moment he had no idea what she was talking about, but, looking more closely with the aid of her lit wand, he saw that Dumbledore had replaced the 'A' of Albus with a tiny version of the same triangular mark that Lovegood had said was the sign of the Deathly Hallows.

Ron spoke up, "It _does_ look like it."

Harry agreed.

"Hmm." Hermione was looking thoughtful as she put her wand away. "That means this symbol links Godric's Hallow, Grindelwald, and now-"

"Dumbledore," Harry finished. Dumbledore had been the one piece missing before Harry could really take it seriously, but now, he had it. There it was, in Dumbledore's own signature. "All three of them. You were right Hermione, this is important!"

She looked conflicted. "Well, I don't know about that, the Deathly Hallows is just a story. A morality tale, like we said-"

"What about the Elder wand, remember? The Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny? Those were real wands used by real wizards," Harry pointed out, growing excited, "how do you know they weren't the same one?"

Hermione's eyebrows were drawn together in consternation, having a hard time taking it seriously. Ron looked undecided, like he'd be willing to go either way.

"Why would he put that there, Hermione?" Harry asked, once again pointing at the signature. "Right there, he wrote it himself, _Albus Dumbledore_-"

The little radio at Ron's side suddenly filled with a loud static, interrupting him, the music cutting out to the voice of someone familiar.

"_... and that's why we must keep our heads up, and be careful! Snatchers, __in groups, in nearly every city and every forest,__ the Ministry, Death Eaters, __and __even Vampires have been spotted recently, __roaming the countryside! __ Yes, t__hey're all out there. Looking for people like us! __To bring down Dumbledore supporters! __We, the __Anti-You-Know-Who'ers!_"

Harry and the others stared down at the radio in shock. Even Malfoy was looking over, frowning in confusion. "Is that Lee Jordan?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I think it is! Wow, that's ace!" Ron exclaimed with a pumping fist before Hermione shushed him. Jordan was talking again.

"_And that leads us__ to __our last message of this broadcast: we have to keep strong! P__eople who are actually on the side of Harry Potter and refuse to listen to the bullshit-_"

"_Oy, come on River, __the__ wee ones__ might be listening,_" another voice said, sounding amused.

"_All right then, refuse to listen to the __**rubbish**__ the Ministry is feeding out to us, we have to stick together, and look out for one another!_"

"_Well listeners, t__hat's t__he end of another Potterwatch. We want to personally wish you all a Happy Christmas. We know it hasn't been an easy year, but folks, it can only go up from here, eh?"_

"_We hope!_" the other voice chimed in again.

"_We don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again as we keep being raided, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials. Our next password'll be 'Shacklebolt.' Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night._"

The radio turned itself off with a twirl of the controls, the little lights fading out.

"Wow," Hermione said, breaking the silence. "Harry, you must have said the current password by accident! 'Albus Dumbledore'!"

"Yeah. I wish we'd gotten to hear more of it," Harry said regretfully, still gazing at the tiny speakers. Though the message had been very brief, it had been nice to hear that people were really supporting him. And he'd nearly forgotten other people were out there, mounting their own resistance, doing whatever they could to stop Voldemort in their own ways. Jordan's voice echoed in his ears. "I wonder who that other person was?"

"Sounded almost like George," Ron said. "Hey did you hear what they called it? Potterwatch!"

"It's brilliant," Harry said with a laugh.

"You know, I had no idea it was Christmas yet. I think we're doing really well, I mean, there's only two Horcruxes left!" Hermione said, smiling up at them. She seemed very happy, and she closed the book on her lap, grabbing each of their hands. "Happy Christmas!"

"Yes, such a happy Christmas this," came a most sarcastic drawl from behind them.

Harry returned her sentiment, ignoring the storm cloud of moodiness that was Malfoy. But the book drew his eye. Why had Dumbledore used that sign in his own name, if it hadn't meant something? Why had he left Hermione _The Tales of Beetle Bard_, if not to lead her to the symbol? He, the snitch, which wouldn't open and could very well house the Resurrection Stone? These questions filled his head as Ron and Hermione's happy conversation about the radio broadcast carried on. He decided to let it drop for now, joining them in the Christmas cheer.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Avicii_


	11. Man Overboard

No delay this time!

Please take the time to leave a review, thanks. I know you've heard it a million times before, probably sounds like a broken record to you at this point, but the effort is appreciated.

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**_Man Overboard_ **

In the following days, with no further leads on any Horcruxes, Harry's mind kept turning back to the symbol. The Deathly Hallows. He couldn't get it out of his head. Ron and Hermione did their best to distract him though, to focus him back on the task at hand.

Ron especially, whose leg was practically good as new, was very eager to go out and do some searching. "Come on you guys, let's try and think," was his usual mantra, "where would another Horcrux be?"

Hermione spent the hours scouring her books. Looking for some hint, some new clue that she'd perhaps missed before.

Despite their efforts, Harry let his mind delve deeper into Voldemort's, trying to see into his visions. Was he out there, looking for the Elder Wand _right now_? But when Harry did connect to Voldemort, it was like a static-filled television screen and he couldn't make anything out. It was frustrating that now, when he was most interested in what he may be doing, Voldemort somehow blocked him.

"I'm going for a bath," Hermione announced one morning, slamming her book shut and standing from the table.

Harry jumped at the sudden noise, and peripherally he saw Ron and Malfoy do the same. They all watched in silent surprise as she strode towards her bunk, lifting her beaded bag. She slung it over a shoulder. "And when I'm done, you all should do the same. You stink."

Ron stood, looking surprised at her rather abrupt decision. "But Hermione, you shouldn't bathe _alone_," he stopped, the tips of his ears burning as he realized what he'd said and he blurted out the rest of his sentence, words coming out nearly too quickly to understand, "I mean, the Snatchers, you need someone to watch out for you, it's not safe-"

Malfoy was smirking at Ron's discomfort. "I'll gladly watch out for her-"

"Shut it Malfoy!" Ron and Harry both yelled. Ron had an eerie ability to figure out what Malfoy might be saying, although in this situation it wasn't really that hard to guess the topic.

Hermione continued undeterred, chin high, "The creek's right out back and the hedgerow won't stop you from saving me. Honestly, I'll be fine. I'll put up my wards just the same as I did here." She turned, looking each of them in the eye as she said, "And I'm serious about you guys doing it too, I'm tired of the smell in here!"

And, just as suddenly as she'd made her proclamation, she left.

Ron paced for a moment, then stood by the opening, staring at the flaps, looking conflicted. Harry had to stifle his amusement. He didn't think there was any harm in Hermione's plan. In fact, he too was getting a little overwhelmed by the smells of the tent. He just had the ability to block it out and ignore it as most young men did.

Ron really wasn't enthusiastic on her being out there alone though. The whole time she was outside he remained at the tent opening, like a sentinel. He was mostly sending death glares in Malfoy's direction, as if the Slytherin was secretly performing some x-ray-producing spell on the walls of the canvas tent.

"It's getting annoying Weasley!" Malfoy finally spat, looking up from the _Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ that had been open in his lap, just to see Ron staring him down once again. "I don't care about your girlfriend's tits, alright! Unlike you, I've seen plenty others!"

Ron narrowed his eyes further, crossing his arms. "What'd he say Harry?"

After some very careful consideration, and because he didn't want another blow up between the two, Harry only said, "He's annoyed that you're looking at him like that."

Ron harrumphed. He didn't move, but he finally turned his eyes away, glaring into the empty fireplace instead.

"Do _not_ talk about Hermione that way," Harry warned Malfoy in Parseltongue, sending a serious glare of his own.

Malfoy snorted, going back to the book.

When Hermione finally appeared again, she looked much more content with the world, wearing fresh clothes and a bright yellow shirt Harry had never seen on her before. "Excuse me Ron- oooh wow it's even worse now!" Hermione exclaimed, hand flying to her nose as Ron stepped out of her way. "You guys need to leave so we can air this place out!"

Now Harry was beginning to get a little offended by all her comments. After all, they were searching for Horcruxes, not trying to sell the tent at an open house. Ron started gathering some things though and Harry slowly followed suit while Hermione stood by, hands on hips. "Don't forget the soap," she reminded "it's right there on the table- oh... all right then."

Malfoy had grabbed it, putting it on top of the small pile of clean clothes he was carrying. He ducked out the tent.

Ron frowned, nose crinkling in displeasure. "You don't happen to have anymore do you, Hermione? Not really keen to share soap with him..."

Harry shared the same sentiment and he was relieved and pleased when Hermione produced another, although significantly smaller, bar of soap. "You're an angel," Harry said, taking it.

"Truly!" Ron agreed.

She smiled and laughed. "Thanks. Now go wash yourselves, _please_."

They went down the muddy creek bed, leading to the languid water. Obviously wanting to be alone, Malfoy was a good distance down from them, already in the creek with soap suds floating around him.

"I guess he wasn't planning on sharing anyway," Harry said with a roll of the eyes as he stripped down. They put their things on a large rock to keep them dry and off the dirt and leaves, with Harry's glasses topping off the pile. Harry dipped a foot into the water to test it out. It was January, it should have been cold, but Hermione's water-warming spell would hold up for a while still.

"Harry what's that?!"

Alarmed, he looked up and around, trying to find whatever Ron was talking about. "What? Where-?"

Ron didn't let him finish, giving him a hard shove in the back.

Harry stumbled into the water, slipping and falling with a great splash. He pushed himself up to stand on the bottom, only to hear laughter as he broke the surface. "You know you're going to pay for that?" he asked, whipping the hair from his eyes with a toss of his head.

"Yeah, good luck with that mate!" Ron said, still laughing.

Without further ado, he launched himself into the creek. Clearly not expecting immediate payback, Ron was unprepared for the brief shoving match Harry started. "Foul play!" Ron howled right before Harry managed to swipe Ron's legs out from under him and give him a good dunking.

After they calmed down a bit, Harry floated, letting the water slowly move him downstream as he stared up at the clouds above.

Ron rubbed at his arms and chest with the soap, again bringing up the topic of where they should search for the next Horcrux. "I know we dismissed it before, but _Hogwarts_! Don't you think? It could be there. Hell, a Basilisk was hidden in the basement that nobody knew about for how many years?"

"True," he agreed, though again, his mind had wandered off into the Deathly Hallows. "It's a good point."

Ron fell silent as he got a good lather going on his hands, scrubbing his face, chest, arms, and Harry idly wondered if Ron was going to leave any soap for him or accidentally use it all up himself.

As he waited for his turn, Harry's thoughts turned to Dumbledore. He'd read some parts of Skeeter's book in the past weeks and he'd been left feeling somewhat duped. Like he wasn't even sure who Dumbledore was anymore. Dumbledore's own words bothered him deeply, "FOR THE MUGGLES' OWN GOOD" and "FOR THE GREATER GOOD". The slogans sounded eerily like the Ministry of Magic. The same sort of holier-than-thou, we know better than you, righteous attitude they always had.

He badly wished Dumbledore was still around so he could explain himself. Explain his obsession with the dark arts he'd had when he'd been the very same age Harry was now. That was a tough one... Hard to ignore.

Harry looked over at Ron. Distracting himself. "So, am I going to be able to use that too?"

Ron glanced up. "Oh, sorry." He held out what was left of the soap. "Here."

Harry took it, while Ron dived under the water. Suds came up from where he'd been standing, drifting away in the stream, and Harry's eyes followed them, down towards Malfoy, who faced the other direction.

He hadn't ever gotten a real clear view on the scars Malfoy had, only really seeing the ones up on the side and back of his neck which were pretty much always visible. Now he could see the extent of them, and he was taken aback. No patch of skin had been spared. The dark gouges and marks on Malfoy went all over his back, cutting up into his shoulder blades in mismatching patterns on either side. The deep scars traveled down his middle and lower back in symbols that just looked zig-zags and swirls to Harry, though he knew they must have some deeper meaning.

Malfoy was scrubbing at his short hair, standing in the bit-above-waist-high creek, still unaware that Harry's eyes were on him. Oblivious to the scrutiny.

You could see the pattern continued on his biceps and sides, no doubt leading to the same sort of insanity on his chest and stomach. It looked like a madman's painting of his own confused nightmares.

Ron popped back up in the water, taking a big gasping breath as he stood. He glanced at Harry, and turned to see what he was staring at before Harry could stop him- he suddenly felt like he'd invaded Malfoy's privacy or something.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed loudly, which was exactly the sort of thing Harry had wanted to avoid.

Malfoy looked up and around, before realizing they were both looking at him. He immediately sank down in the creek, so only his face could be seen.

Feeling a bit of guilt, Harry turned away, soaping himself. As if nothing had happened. "Real subtle Ron."

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting it!" he said, though Harry was unable to detect any regret in his tone, only shock and disgust. "Blimey, never seen something like those scars. Look, off he goes."

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw that Malfoy was gliding away, further downstream to where the creek turned into the trees and they were no longer able to see him.

Ron shook his head, leaving the water and walking up the muddy bank. "D'you suppose I hurt that git's feelings?" he wondered aloud, more curious than worried.

"Dunno'," Harry replied but he thought that from the way Malfoy had slunk off, he probably had.

Harry saw the soap was reaching its end, only a bit left. He lathered up his hands until it was gone, then used it to wash his face.

Ron was waiting, now dressed, looking up towards where the tent was hidden behind its wards.

Harry left the water, stepping on large rocks instead of mud in an effort to keep his feet clean as he could before he could get his socks and trainers on. When he was fully dressed, he glanced over towards the forest where Malfoy had gone and had yet to reappear.

"Maybe he won't come back," Ron said when he saw where Harry was looking, his tone half joking while half hopeful. "Come on, I bet Hermione's made lunch."

"You go ahead," Harry said, readjusting the glasses on his nose. Lunch sounded good, but Malfoy's disappearance bothered him enough that he put it to the side for now. "I'm gonna' go see what's taking him."

Ron watched him start to walk away, then Harry heard a noise of impatience before Ron appeared at his side and matching his strides, his friend said unhappily, "I'll go with you. I guess it's my fault anyhow..."

They had passed the end of the defensive wards they'd put up around the creek. Automatically, Harry took out his wand and Ron did the same. Leading the way into the trees, Harry looked about, trying to find some sign of Malfoy. Had he really gone away to sulk?

A clearing opened up ahead of them and Harry's eyes fell onto a fire pit. He stopped immediately, at the very threshold of the bushes, putting a hand up and stopping Ron too.

Harry could see the fire had been abandoned only recently, wispy smoke still rising from its embers. Around it, the ground was disturbed and flattened, obviously a group of people had been sleeping or sitting there.

"Snatchers," Ron said in his ear, almost inaudible.

Harry gave a signal, and they backed up carefully.

"We have to get back to the tent," Ron said urgently, though just as quiet as before. "Wards."

Then, from a not-too-far distance, they could hear shouting. Excited shouting. It came from deeper in the forest, right about where Harry thought the creek bend would have twisted away into the woods and, unfortunately, where he assumed Malfoy might be.

They shared a glance.

"I think they found him," Harry said, still whispering and starting forward, "c'mon."

They headed towards the shouting, and the yells were soon distinguishable from one another. "He's over there!" a deep and gruff voice called.

"Watch out! _Expelliarmus_!"

"Go 'round, go 'round! _Ignishio_! "

Harry pushed old, prickly bushes out of his way and a view of the creek far down below them opened up. The Snatchers were running around the area madly, fanning out to cover more ground, wands pointing up towards the hill opposite them.

"There!" Ron hissed, pointing.

Staying low and darting from one tree to the next, trying to keep the large trunks between himself and the spells being thrown up at him, was Malfoy. He must have been ambushed as he was trying to change back into his clothes because he was missing a shoe.

"Twelve of 'em," Ron said, "too many."

Harry did a quick count himself and agreed. "But if he can make it to the top, then we'll have the advantage on them-"

A red spell tore a ragged hole in a tree trunk Malfoy had just reached, barely missing his head and blowing bits of bark outward. It did some sort of damage to him though because he stumbled, putting a hand on his face.

A Snatcher called out gleefully: "Got 'em with that one!" His gloating was cut short as Malfoy twisted and shot a spell back down at him, hitting the Snatcher's wrist, the wand spinning out of the man's hand.

"They're catching up to him," Harry said, clearly seeing that Malfoy had lost some ground, the Snatchers drawing closer.

"He's not going to make it!"

Harry saw the man closest to Malfoy- only feet away- dive forward. In that split-second, he made his decision, maybe unwise, but he wasn't going to sit there and watch anyone, even Malfoy, get taken down without doing something to help.

"_Stupefy_!" Harry yelled, jumping up. His mark fell, unconscious, and he saw Malfoy successfully duck behind another tree.

"Watch it!" Ron grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back down and out of sight.

The Snatchers were confused now though: "Behind us! Behind us!"

"Break in two!"

The six furthest in the back were now turning around, looking up towards were he and Ron hid. Spells were being shot randomly in their direction, thankfully, the Snatchers were unsure of exactly where they were.

He and Ron crouched low, spells whizzing by above them. "I'll circle 'round that way," Harry pointed to the right. "You go to the left, and with our higher vantage point, we'll take them out. Shoot them, then move, and shoot again. Right?"

Ron nodded.

They broke apart, quickly moving off.

Harry jogged along until he felt he'd gotten enough distance that no Snatcher would be looking towards his position. He broke the treeline, poking his head out. As anticipated, the Snatchers were still a good distance below, not having made much progress. Harry aimed, taking out two more with stunning spells before they'd realized where he was. He darted back and out of view, narrowly missing their curses.

"We're buggered here!" came an angry shout.

"There's another one!"

That'd be Ron, he knew. He felt a sort of satisfaction as he continued further along. The Snatchers had chosen a terrible spot to attack Malfoy. They had nowhere to hide.

He popped back out, noting the positions of his enemies. Only two Snatchers were left trying to get to the side he and Ron were on. Four were still on Malfoy's side, swiftly making their way up and adopting Malfoy's evading technique of hiding behind trees. He did not see any sign of Malfoy himself.

A red light shot towards him while he was distracted but luckily Harry saw it and dropped, rolling back and out of sight.

He decided to focus his attention on the other side of the hill and let Ron take care of the others, confident that it wouldn't be a problem. Malfoy was definitely in more trouble than they were. Regaining his footing, Harry hurried along, still making his way right, trying to somewhat follow where he thought Malfoy would be, mirroring the trajectory on his own side.

Crouching low, he elbowed and pushed his way through some overgrown shrubbery. He saw one of the Snatchers had made it to the top of the opposite hill. It looked like he was doing the same thing as Harry, and he quickly disappeared from view before Harry could make a move on him.

The remaining Snatchers had spread out even further, making a half-circle that relentlessly moved upward, and that was when Harry finally spotted Malfoy. Blood pouring down his face, he was planted nearly smack-dab in the middle of that circle, dodging spells. But it was now clear to Harry what the Snatchers plan was: Malfoy was slowly being corralled up towards the waiting Snatcher at the top.

Harry realized the only way to stop his eventual capture was to do something drastic.

"Oi! Ya' dumb prats!" he yelled brazenly, rising to his full height. "Harry Potter over here!"

It got exactly the reaction he'd wanted. They turned and focused their attention on him, rather than Malfoy, giving exclamations of shock before spells and curses came towards him from every direction.

Harry weaved and jumped away, out of sight, confident that what he'd done gave Malfoy the chance to take some of them out of commission.

Screams of pain suddenly filled the air, echoing across the hills.

Confused, unsure of what was going on, Harry looked out from behind a tree trunk. He was shocked to see the four men were now collapsed on the ground, writhing, floundering about. Malfoy stood in the middle of this, wand still pointed, going to each man.

"_Crucio_!" Malfoy's shout rang out, now audible because the men had ran out of air to scream with. They squirmed in near silence as Malfoy hit them, again and again. "_Crucio_! _Crucio_! _Crucio_!"

Harry could see the lone and last Snatcher, the one that had been waiting at the top. He was licking his lips, surveying the situation with panic and shock written across his features. It was clear he knew he'd lost. With one last glance at Harry, the Snatcher Disapparated, abandoning the rest of his group.

"_Crucio_!"

The man convulsed, back curving.

"_Crucio_!"

"Enough Malfoy!" Harry shouted, rising to his feet, disgusted. "It's over!"

The Slytherin ignored him, turning to another. "_Crucio_!"

"Malfoy STOP!"

Ron appeared to Harry's left, looking squeamish as he asked, "What spell is he...? The Cruciatus Curse?"

"Yeah." He could see some of the Snatchers starting to twitch and come around, but Malfoy pointed his wand again. Feeling a real rise of anger, Harry's hand clenched his own wand. "Malfoy _don't_-"

"_Stupefy_!" he yelled instead, and in quick succession the remaining Snatchers were left unconscious.

Harry and Ron waited in silence as Malfoy slowly made his way toward them, cupping one of his eyes with his free hand, stemming the flow of blood somewhat. He was limping a bit, on the foot that had no shoe. He'd most likely cut it on a fallen tree branch or rock. When he finally reached them, there were no thank you's from Malfoy, no gratitude for the help Ron and Harry had provided. "Got turned around. Which way's the campsite?" was all he said.

"You're not going to explain that?" Harry demanded, pointing back at the unmoving bodies scattered about behind him.

Malfoy regarded him with his unobstructed eye, gray and impassive. "Explain what exactly?"

Harry was fed up with the blasé attitude. "Are you serious? You didn't need to cast any Unforgivables! You went too far!"

"Oh? I could have gone further, believe me! Those were Snatchers! This isn't a game Potter, if they'd caught me-"

"They weren't going to catch you, Ron and I had your back, we had it covered-"

"You had it covered? Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had my back?" Malfoy's voice dripped with a toxic combination of sarcasm and anger. "Yeah right, I was nearly caught and done for by the time you two showed up! No hesitation putting yourself in danger to help me though right?"

"You had no reason to use that curse, it was over! We don't cause pain to people for fun. Or revenge. Or whatever you want to call what you just did. Me, Ron and Hermione, we don't _do_ that- and you're with us right now, so you need to follow that too."

Malfoy shook his head, dismissive. "It wasn't for fun or revenge you simpleton, it was a _lesson_! This will deter them from chasing us again in the future. And by the way, I'm going to do whatever I need to do to keep _me-"_ he shoved a thumb into his own chest,_ "_the only person who cares- _alive_ to help my mother! You remember her, don't you? Tortured and impregnated by the Dark Lord himself-?"

"First off's, using the Cruciatus on Snatchers or Death Eaters doesn't deter them," Harry snapped, "Are you that stupid? Next time _they'll_ be casting Cruciatus Curses at _us_ you git. Secondly, the Order of the Phoenix has your mother as their top priority-"

"Right and they've done a bang up job so far!"

Ron, for his part, was watching them carefully during this time, arms crossed, eyes routinely going from their hissing argument back to the unconscious bodies of the Snatchers.

"They're your best bet Malfoy," Harry returned, voice low now, "what ever the Order's done or failed to do, you can't change anything right now, And either way, we can't go around doing what you just did here. You just made a bad situation worse."

Malfoy laughed, but there was no humor in it. Blood still leaked from under his hand, dripping grotesquely down and staining his shirt. "I can think of quite a few situations you've made worse than they needed to be Potter! Shall I start naming them? Perhaps we can compare?"

Resisting the sudden urge to punch Malfoy in his sneering face, Harry stared at the Slytherin across from him with new eyes. Why had he ever given this prat the benefit of the doubt? What had he been thinking? The idea of using the disarmament spell crossed his mind and he'd just began to lift his wand when Ron suddenly spoke up.

"All right, we can finish this later Harry." He pushed away from the tree he'd been leaning against. "How long do you think it's going to take these Snatchers to regroup and make a second attempt at us? Besides, Hermione's been alone long enough, we didn't even tell her we were leaving."

Harry paused, reluctant to let it go, but he clamped down on his anger and lowered his wand. Now wasn't the time. Ron was right, they needed to get out of this area. More Snatchers would be coming.

"No more Unforgivables. You're done."

"You must be joking to think you can tell me what spells I can or can't use-" Malfoy scoffed disdainfully, oblivious to how close Harry had been to just taking the wand from him without any choice in the matter.

"I'm not joking," Harry said, voice flat. He turned his back on him.

When Malfoy tried to reengage him, Harry completely ignored it, tuning out the angry insults as he and Ron lead the way back to the campsite.

All Harry could see in his mind was the focused, unemotional look on Malfoy's face as he cast the Cruciatus Curse, so unlike the raving fanaticism on the faces of his enemies who had cast the very same curse upon Harry in the past... but so very similar in intent.

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_this chapter is named after a song by Blink-182_


	12. Bleeding Out

This one's a bit longer then the others, hope you enjoy. Didn't feel right to split it into two chapters, so there ya go. Please review!

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

_**Bleeding Out **_

"What happened!" Granger was demanding behind him. "Where _were_ you?"

Potter and Weasley filled her in as they began quickly packing their things so they could move to yet another campsite and Draco let them contend with the busywork, blocking out their droning voices. He didn't care what they had to say- didn't care about Potter's sanctimonious crap about 'not using Unforgiveables'.

He stood with his back to the others, feeling the blood drip down his face through his fingers, hearing the argument with Potter still echo in his ears. He suddenly wondered... if the war did ever actually end and by some miracle he made it through... what if he was made to stand in court and defend his actions...? But Draco's thoughts stuttered to a stop here, teetering somewhere between disdain and uncertainty. The war ending. It just didn't seem conceivable at this point.

He shook his head, expelling air forcefully through his teeth, pushing the thoughts from his mind. What mattered was that he'd only been a _hair's_ breadth away from being captured and back in The Dark Lord's hands. That was it. He'd proven his point to those Snatchers. Rules didn't matter to them, and now _they _knew- unwillingly etched in their memories for a long time he was sure- it didn't matter to him, either.

And as irritated as he was at Potter, at thoughts of having to possibly defend his actions, at the war, even at Weasley's revulsion on seeing the scars that Draco still struggled to accept as part of himself- it was his eye that needed attention now. It pulsed painfully, and he could ignore it no longer. A piece of tree bark had embedded itself in his skin when he'd dodged a Snatcher's lucky shot, but he couldn't tell exactly what was going on.

He pointed his wand towards Granger's bottomless bag, which Weasley had resting on his bunk and was currently stuffing things into. "_Accio_ hand mirror."

A small mirror zipped up and out, nearly whacking Weasley across the face. This normally would have amused Draco somewhat, but the pain around his orbital eye socket was getting to him and he caught the handle of the mirror without any sort of smirk in Weasley's direction.

"Watch it Malfoy!" he heard the ginger oaf roar behind him.

Ignoring it, he dropped the hand that had been covering his face protectively, revealing his badly puffed-up, leaking, and bloodshot eye in the mirror's reflection and indeed, there was a piece of tree bark stuck in the delicate skin under his eye. He felt particularly nauseous as he noted how close it came to actually piercing the eye itself, seeing how it was pressing against it.

"Oh, that looks horrible!"

He looked over to see Granger heading towards him, surprised to see her face in a twisted wince of sympathy. He watched her approach warily.

"Malfoy, sit. _Accio_ dittany!"

He hesitated, looking down on her, unsure.

She caught the little brown bottle. "_Sit_," she repeated impatiently.

Eventually, he acquiesced, lowering himself to his bunk. It might be wise to have some assistance with this.

"What're you doing Hermione?"

Not a moment later, Weasley was standing over him too, and at once Draco jumped back to his feet. Tried to grab the dittany from Granger's hand himself, but she held it away and out of reach. He still could have taken it from her with a little more effort, but with Wesley hulking over him, manhandling Granger probably wouldn't be a very shrewd move, he was sure.

"No," Granger said, "just sit back down Malfoy."

Annoyed, Draco looked over towards Potter, who was still packing and seemed to be ignoring the whole scene. He'd been planning to avoid saying anything at all to Potter after their argument in the forest, but seeing as the self-righteous prick was the only one around who could translate anything Draco had to say, he ordered loudly, "Tell Granger I don't need, nor do I want, her help."

Potter glanced over, face unreadable. Then he resumed his packing without saying a word.

Draco glared at his back, furious at being ignored. Grinding his teeth, he turned back to Granger and pointed impatiently at the small bottle of dittany clutched protectively in her palm. A clear indication that he wanted her to hand it over.

"Let him do it himself, he wants to," Weasley insisted, apparently understanding Draco's gesture.

"Ron, we're running low on this. So it needs to be applied carefully and sparingly by someone with a steady hand, _not_ someone who's bleeding profusely from their own eye! Now Malfoy, sit down!"

Weasley gave up and threw his hands up in frustration, stomping off.

Draco watched his retreating back, then looked down at Granger. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

He felt more blood dripping from his face, and it did hurt. He decided to sit.

"What happened, anyway?" Granger asked, grimacing at the oozing wound. "What is it?"

Stupidly forgetting she wouldn't be able to understand any answer he gave, Draco reminded her of this with a derisive snort and, obviously, saying nothing.

She was oblivious to his disdain though, only muttering to herself, "I suppose it doesn't matter really, it just needs to come out. Hmm... oh, I know. _Accio_ tweezers!"

The instrument went flying into Granger's waiting hand and wasting no time, she leaned into his personal space, forehead wrinkled in concentration. In return, Draco had to resist the very strong urge to lean back and away. It was incredibly uncomfortable and awkward being this close to her, especially when he could feel Weasley's stare practically burning a hole through him from the other side of the tent.

As soon as the metal device was clamped around the bark, the awkwardness was forgotten. He couldn't help drawing a sharp breath through his teeth as he felt a strange pressure, deep in his head.

"I'm taking it out. On three. Ready?"

He braced himself, eyes shut.

"One, two-"

There was a sick, pulling feeling. Draco smothered the half formed bark of pain and felt warmth rolling down his cheek. More blood.

Eyes still closed, he could feel something being stuffed into his hand and he looked down in confusion. A wash cloth.

"It needs to be cleaned off before I can use the dittany. I can't really see the wound with all the blood..."

Of course she wasn't going to do it for him, he thought somewhat sardonically as he took the offered cloth, her Gryffindor-benevolence only went so far.

He dabbed carefully at the gash, then wiped some at his cheek before turning it over and repeating the process. He glanced up to see Granger looking unsatisfied. "Just get the dittany on there," he snapped when it looked like she was going to ask him to clean it up even more.

Weasley spoke up, "Hermione we have to go, those Snatchers-"

"We're almost done. Lean your head back Malfoy. Further. Okay, don't move."

He closed his good eye and sat there, stretching his neck back as far as it would practically go. Finally he felt the delicate touch of a drop of medicine dabbing onto his skin, followed by another and immediately, there was a wonderful lessening of pain and he could hear the steam of the green smoke billowing up from his healing wound.

"We have to take the tent down now," he heard Potter announce, "come on."

Granger's voice in front of him still: "You can open your eyes. It's already healed the majority of it."

He blinked. He took Granger's mirror, noting that the swelling around his eye had already gone down quite drastically and he could now open it properly. "Good."

"You're very welcome," Granger said kindly, wrongly assuming that he had thanked her.

They'd finished packing. Draco made his way outside, joining the others in the afternoon sun, still holding the mirror and washcloth. He worked at his face, trying to get all the smeared and faded bloodstains off while Potter took down the tent and stuffed it in that ever-useful beaded bag. Next to him, Granger held her wand aloft in the air, whispering soft words and Draco felt the protection of the wards around them drop and disappear.

Potter was saying something about where they would Apparate next and Draco listened with half-an-ear, more focused on what he was doing. But he felt he'd gotten as much of the blood as he could with the dirtied cloth and just as he was about to put the mirror down, was in fact, lowering it towards his side, he caught a glimpse of something moving, reflected in the glass behind him.

Draco stared, heart leaping into his throat.

A long line of black cloaked figures adorned with bone colored skull-masks, appearing one by one from the woods behind them, each brandishing a wand.

Draco felt the blood rush from his face, the mirror falling from his hand. "_Death Eaters_!"

A yellow, crackling spell exploded at their feet just as Draco gave his frantic warning, and the group was blown back violently. Granger lost her footing and practically fell into Potter while Weasley and Draco managed to dodge in the other direction.

"The Snatchers must have tipped them off!" Weasley yelled as they all scrambled back looking for some sort of cover. But there was nothing, only the shallow creek winding its way around them.

Another spell hit the ground at his feet and Draco felt a second whiz by his head at the same moment and he ducked frantically, skipping back. Weasley was being forced in the same direction, while Potter and Granger drew further the other way.

He and the others were desperately sending spells back, but it was a losing fight. There were too many Death Eaters and on top of that, they had the advantage of the tree cover on their side.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Draco saw an unknown spell- orange and blazing- shoot like a firebolt from out of the trees and across the landscape, the long grass parting as it flew past. Too fast, there was no chance to dodge or block, and it struck Weasley hard in the shoulder.

He was spun around from the utter force of it, tripping and falling back into the creek.

"_Ron_!" Granger's voice cried out, horror-stricken over the roaring laughter from the Death Eaters.

A spell hit Draco's hand in his distraction, numbing it, and his wand flipped up and out of his grip. "No!" He watched it desperately. It arced through the air until finally landing in the creek as well.

"Say goodbye to your friends little bitty Potter!" a familiar voice, louder then the others, jeered. He'd recognize it anywhere, and Draco's stomach flip-flopped as he looked back, feeling a heavy sense of doom overcome him. Bellatrix had arrived. Standing at the front of the other Death Eaters who were leaving the cover of the forest behind her, she cut a particularly imposing figure with her wild hair, billowing cloak, and mask-less face. He wondered fleetingly if his deranged aunt recognized him or not, if she was even aware she was attacking her own nephew.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

He cowered, defenseless, sure he had met his end, but when he looked up he realized Bellatrix's Killing Curse had not been sent his way after all. The intended target had been Granger of all people, the green lightning bolt had only narrowly missed her. And that was only because Potter had grabbed her arm and ripped her out of the way at the last second.

Granger tried to push away from him, completely distracted, desperately looking over at the water where Weasley had yet to surface, calling his name.

"_AVADA-_" Bellatrix started to screech.

"Malfoy!" Potter yelled, and he looked up to see Potter's anguished face glancing at the creek, just as yet another beam of green light was sent in Granger's direction.

"-_KEDAVRA_!"

Potter sent a pleading look at Draco, meeting his eyes.

Then Potter and Granger disappeared with a loud CRACK. His aunt's Killing Curse flew harmlessly through the now empty air.

Draco blinked in confusion, thoughts rapidly going through his head as he stared at the blank space where they had been. They'd Disapparated. They'd left Weasley behind. Why had Potter called his name?

"Did I hear that right! Malfoy? Is that my Draco?" Bellatrix demanded, amusement playing in her voice. When he looked back at her though, he saw the hot anger burning in her eyes. She was incensed that Potter and Granger had managed to get away unscathed. "My my _my_! What an unexpected treat! Another family reunion for me! _Crucio_!"

Draco didn't hesitate. He jumped up and dove straight for the creek, landing in a great splash.

The icy water shocked him, the warming spell had long since worn off and most of the air was pushed from his lungs. He tried to remain calm and let himself sink to the bottom, trying to focus and think. Quickly, quickly. He had no time. The Death Eaters could reach him any second and it didn't matter that Bellatrix had recognized him, it changed nothing, she would kill him just the same or eagerly deliver him to Voldemort... with the same result he had no doubt.

He twisted around in the water, hating how his ill-fitting clothes dragged and pulled against him, slowing his movements as he searched desperately for his wand. Or maybe he could find Weasley's wand.

And just as that thought crossed his mind, a dark stick sunk down right in front of his eyes, nearly tapping him on the nose.

Draco was so relieved that he snatched the wand with both hands, squeezing it tightly. Making sure it wasn't just an illusion. There was no time to celebrate the miracle timing though, the choking, desperate feeling of having no air was starting to overwhelm him and Draco kicked his legs, swimming forward.

The freezing water was clear, and he could now see the drifting figure of Ron Weasley, bobbing low in the water, unmoving. That spell must have knocked him unconscious.

As he reached forward and grasped Weasley's ankle, he closed his eyes and thought, trying to remember where their next Apparition location was supposed to be. Potter had been talking about it before the Death Eaters had ambushed them, but Draco had been distracted... he hadn't really been listening...

It took a moment of concentration, but thankfully, an image of the place bloomed in his mind and the pull of Apparition responded instantly, coiling deep in his gut.

Tightening his grip on Weasley, he felt them begin to twist away into nothingness... and it was in this instant, that moment right between disappearing in one place and reappearing in another, that a sudden flash of insight came to him, and he realized with a shock why Potter had called his name so desperately earlier. Potter had been asking Draco to save Weasley's life.

Wind. It was the first sensation he felt after materializing. Followed quickly by cold.

Lungs desperate for fresh oxygen, he sucked in the air greedily, laying flat on his stomach for a moment, getting his wits about him.

Finally regaining his breath somewhat, Draco looked up, expecting to see some familiar faces, but as he took in the view around him he didn't see Potter or Granger anywhere. He and Weasley seemed to be alone. Only large boulders dotted the otherwise sparse and barren landscape around them, surrounded by sand and rocks that led to up to to the edge of a cliff some distance away.

Draco thought he must have missed the mark by a bit, which was known to happen when Apparating under stressful circumstances, so he wasn't all that surprised.

"Weasley," he said, looking back to where the other boy remained sprawled ahead of him, still motionless. He poked the wand hard into the Gryffindor's calf.

There was no response.

Draco got to his hands and knees, crawling closer. The side of Weasley's face was turned towards him and he could see it was a sickly, unnatural grey. The color of death. Draco lifted his wand, droplets of water falling from its end as he waved it. "_Re__nnervate!_" he ordered.

But he'd never been very good at healing enchantments, and Weasley remained still, absorbing the spell without reaction.

Draco tried again, louder, with more force and twirling of his wand.

Nothing.

After another unsuccessful attempt, he finally sat back, feeling queasy as he looked down at the other boy. It was too late, he realized, in a sort of daze. Weasley had drowned.

"Ron! _Ron!_"

Draco startled, turning to see Granger and Potter running towards them. They must have heard him trying his revival spell, out of view behind one of those boulders.

"Ron!" Granger cried out again, reaching his side while Draco backed out of the way, giving them a wide berth. She didn't acknowledge him in the slightest and she immediately grabbed Weasley and started to pull at him. Potter arrived and helped, and together they flipped him onto his back.

Granger had her face low and turned to the side, ear hovering above Weasley's mouth. Her voice was tight as she announced the obvious: "He's not breathing," and she tilted Weasley's head back, helping his mouth to drop fully open.

From the way she was moving, Draco realized she must know another healing spell that he wasn't aware of. There was purpose and intent in every motion she made.

Then, she plugged Weasley's nose and placed her mouth over his.

Draco blinked and watched this in utter bewilderment. Granger's air forced Weasley's chest to rise, but as soon as she pulled back, it stopped.

After a minute of this perplexing behavior that seemed to be having no effect, Potter then came forward and took his hands, one over the other, and suddenly started shoving down on Weasley's chest. Hard. Again and again. "Come on mate," Potter urged, as he pumped. "Come on!"

A Muggle resuscitation attempt, Draco realized with a wince. He thought he'd heard something crack, one of Weasley's ribs no doubt. How crude.

They switched off, Granger forcing air again.

Time passed as they kept at it, never slowing, seemingly undeterred by Weasley's complete lack of response to their desperate efforts. Draco continued to watch them without comment, holding his arms close to his body as the wind began to make him shiver, soaked clothes clinging to his dampened skin.

Then, right about the time when Draco had started to wonder just how long they were going to keep trying, a terrible gagging noise broke the silence and Granger was rearing back. "Oh thank god thank god," she said like a mantra, taking Weasley's head and turning it to the side, where, to Draco's surprise, foamy liquid actually began pouring from his mouth as he spit and retched violently.

Potter sighed, relief practically emanating from him as he ran his hands over his own face. "Too close... that was too close..."

Weasley coughed some more, glassy blue eyes finally opening a crack. Color was returning to his freckled face, the death-like pallor being chased away. Granger smiled down at him, brushing the damp hair back from his forehead and looking like she might actually begin to cry.

"Oi, what'd you do to me," Weasley groaned, voice raw, rubbing weakly at his chest.

Granger and Potter burst out laughing like it was the greatest joke ever told. Granger leaned down and hugged Weasley, giggling and wiping at her eyes while Potter sat back and surveyed them both, looking happy.

Unwanted feelings suddenly rose in Draco, defying his efforts to stifle them and he turned from the scene, staring out towards the drop of the cliff. Jealous that he didn't have any friends that cared whether or not he choked to death on some creek water. Jealous at how happy the three managed to be, even in such a horrible situation. Their togetherness only made him feel more alone.

After allowing them another moment of their 'yay we're alive' celebrations, Draco finally broke it up, telling them to set up the bloody tent already, he was freezing.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a mostly uneventful blur.

His days were filled with reading Granger's books, just to have something to do to pass the time and to prevent himself from getting caught up in the dark, depressing thoughts, a gnawing worry growing in his gut as each day passed. His mother's pregnancy would be reaching nearly seven months along at this point. What would happen once she gave birth? He didn't know if Voldemort planned to kill her along with his spawn and time was running short.

He wasn't the only one trying to distract himself though. Granger would often interrupt his reading, coming up and demanding whatever book he currently had, taking it back to the table and scouring through it herself. It was clear she'd become desperate to find some piece of information that she'd somehow missed in her earlier viewings.

Recently, even the studying-impaired Weasley had joined her in her efforts, which was somewhat amusing to see. He'd sit at the table, looking out of place and uncomfortable surrounded by her stacks of books, pulling each one she discarded close to himself and slowly looking through it page by page, obviously overwhelmed.

Of course, even Draco had to admit that Weasley's efforts were probably more aimed at calming Granger down than because he really thought he was going to find something she'd missed. The girl was looking more and more harried each time she opened another book.

Potter left them to it as he spent a lot of the time outside the tent, by himself, keeping watch. When he was inside, he was pacing and brooding and going over and over the stupid fairy tale of the Deathly Hallows with the others whenever the mood struck him. Very annoying, and Draco had to hold himself back from snapping at him, though he wasn't sure if he could for much longer.

Ever since the confrontation they'd had after the Snatchers had nearly caught Draco, he and Potter barely spoke. Even less than they had before, which hadn't been much anyway. The last time the two had really exchanged words was the evening after Draco had rescued Weasley from drowning at the Death Eater's hands...

Potter had actually approached him, taking him aside for a quick chat when they both happened to be outside the tent. His face was set, clearly resolved to say whatever he was going to say, though Draco sensed hesitance in his somewhat halting start: "Listen, I just wanted to... tell you... I mean, Apparating with Ron out of that creek, that was a stand up thing Malfoy. I had to get Hermione out of there, Bellatrix was intent on killing her, but- well, Hermione wasn't going to leave without Ron. And I couldn't- I'd thought he was-" he broke off suddenly, glancing away.

Potter was clearly haunted by the idea of losing one of his friends. And while they stood together with Potter looking off into the nighttime landscape, Draco found himself agreeing with his assessment. Voldemort had clearly marked his friends as expendable. His aunt hadn't been planning to stop her Killing Curses until Granger was dead, it had been obvious. To everyone but Granger, that is.

Potter cleared his throat before continuing, "I couldn't save them both." He looked back at him. "Anyway... yeah, so... thanks."

There had been a growing silence after that statement and Draco felt Potter expected him to say 'you're welcome' or 'no problem' or something else just as obsequious, but he found he didn't have it in him. He'd still been irritated with how Potter had spoken to him after the Snatcher incident, and when he met Potter's eyes all he could think was that the bespectacled prick _should_ be grateful. He'd just saved his best mate from a watery grave, hadn't he?

At the same time though, he couldn't help but acknowledge the small olive branch Potter was offering, as the Slytherin part of him knew that goodwill could breed opportunity easier and more efficiently than enmity might.

So Draco smirked, a default expression for him when he was feeling conflicted about how to respond to something and finally he decided on some neutral sarcasm, "Now there's only Granger left, you know."

Potter had paused, looking confused.

"I've saved you and Weasley from drowning, it only makes sense that I finish the trifecta."

Draco recalled how his attempt at a joke had fallen rather flat. Flat, and very awkward. Potter'd remained confused, brows furrowed, like he wasn't sure if Draco was threatening him or what. "Never mind," Draco had said with a grimace, ending the whole thing quite gracelessly.

Some weeks had passed since that awkward moment and since then, Potter had not tried to engage Draco in any sort of meaningful conversation and he'd reciprocated.

A light rainfall could now be heard, beginning to tap rhythmically on the canvas of the tent above.

He sat at the table by himself, drinking tea and flipping through _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ once again while the other three formed a circle around the fire across from him. They were discussing what they might do next, where to go. He frankly thought the little conference was going in circles, he'd certainly heard it all before, and he just tried to block them out.

Draco turned another page, reading the passage where seventeen year old Albus Dumbledore wrote his condemning letter about Wizards and Witches reigning over Muggles "for their own good" and as his eyes scanned across Dumbledore's harsh words, a sudden, sharp stinging sensation came from his left arm.

He jerked and cried out in surprise, splashing tea down onto the pages. He could feel Potter and his friends looking over at him, but Draco coughed and rubbed at his nose, playing it off like he'd sneezed.

When their attention was drawn away, Draco laid his arm out on the table, trying to be casual about it. The Dark Mark on the pale flesh of his forearm should have been a faded red from disuse, but as he feared, he could see the tattoo darkening before his very eyes.

Voldemort was summoning him.

He was summoning all his inner-circle Death Eaters. Draco felt a rush of anxiety, though of course he wouldn't go, just _knowing_ he was actively defying Voldemort scared him. It was a deeply rooted fear that he couldn't get rid of no matter how well he was hidden out in the fields.

Draco glanced at the others, their backs to him. He wondered if he should tell them that Voldemort was gathering his Death Eaters. If the information would even matter.

As he sat there in indecision, another wave of fire arrived, stronger than before, and a surprised Draco clenched his hand into a fist, fighting the pain and staring down determinedly at the tea-blurred letters on the page until it receded.

He let out a small breath, glancing down at his arm in shock.

A _second_, more painful, summons? That had never happened before. A summons didn't work that way. His thoughts raced: had Bellatrix reported back to Voldemort that she'd seen Draco with Potter and the others that day they managed to escape? Of course she had... but had Voldemort somehow devised a way to punish Draco for his abandonment through his Dark Mark?

Most importantly, did that mean this pain might continue?

Draco licked his lips nervously. His arm hurt already, and if he had to endure this for long it would probably get worse. He didn't have access to any soothing potions. No medications. Nothing.

Coming to a quick decision, Draco suddenly stood, going to his bunk where he kept the small collection of woebegone clothes that had been donated to him folded at the foot of the mattress. He selected a dark hooded sweater from the pile, shaking it out.

He didn't want to turn into some sort of a side-show event for the others. If the pain grew less manageable, he'd deal with it alone, not in front of people he could barely tolerate and who clearly felt the same way about him.

Potter glanced over, watching with mild curiosity as Draco pulled on the worn out sweater, but Draco said nothing to him, he felt no need to explain himself to anyone. Maintaining his silence, he went to the tent flaps, unzipping them and ducking outside.

The rain was still light, and when Draco pulled his frayed hood up he was more than protected from it. As he turned and finished closing the tent behind him, the painful fire from his Dark Mark rose again and Draco involuntarily grabbed his arm, squeezing tightly.

He let himself practically fall to a sitting position on the grass, trying to just focus on breathing his way through this.

When the pain finally subsided, Draco let out a big breath.

That had been worse than before.

He reached down, lifting his sleeve with a feeling of trepidation. As he feared, in the short amount of time since he'd last checked it, the mark had darkened even further.

He stared down at the black skull resentfully, full of bitterness. Not for the first time, he silently cursed the day he'd been forced to take the Dark Mark. Forced to pledge his unending allegiance to Voldemort under the threat of death, for him along with his family. Nothing good had happened in his life since that moment last year. Nothing.

"Ugh," a surprised groan slipped out of him.

The blistering pain flared up again, faster then it had before. Head down, teeth grit, he unconsciously held his arm out in front of him, like he was offering it to some unseen person. Draco felt sweat beading on his forehead. He stayed frozen in this position for another few minutes before the pain finally released him from its clutches.

It went on like this for a while. Waves of fire held him tightly, muscles knotting in response, before eventually, mercifully, receding.

With a shaking hand, Draco reached up, throwing his hood off to let the rain pour over him. He gazed at the gray sky and the dark, heavy clouds rolling around far above, some semblance of relief in the sensation of the cool raindrops slipping down his face, and he tried to focus on the feeling of that as he sat there, breathing hard. Tried to hold onto it and keep the next wave at bay.

But it wasn't to be.

The pain unfurled from his arm, spreading fast, further this time, and deep into his chest where it seemed to take root with a vengeance. He moaned, unable to help it. He hadn't wanted to make any noise, didn't want to draw attention, but that was just a fleeting thought at this point. It was pain that mattered now. Only pain. Draco was powerless against it.

The rain didn't help anymore. He couldn't even feel it. No, he _could_ feel it. It burned him too. Everything burned, each drop like molten lava to his skin, every nerve on fire.

Before had been _nothing_ he realized. A warning. Now he'd been thrown into the sun, left to wither and burn. The Cruciatus Curse was trivial compared to this; a ripple compared to an ocean of torment.

He wished it would end. Why wouldn't it end?

As he suffered the rain picked up, pouring over him in a torrential fashion, and he felt he was being battered.

Draco didn't know how long he sat there, rocking, shivering. His nerve endings were fraying and time was insignificant, just a hollow word, empty of any sort of meaning when he was in such utter agony.

There was a sudden heavy pressure on his back.

It didn't matter though.

A voice next to him now.

He tried to focus on it, tried to make out the words being said, but the pain seized him and he could not.

At some point he had curled down over himself, and his left arm was tucked protectively on his lap beneath him. But something was yanking on it now. Insistent. He hadn't the strength to resist and he felt it tugged free.

Feeling feverish, he managed to open his eyes that he hadn't even known had been closed and through a curtain of rain he saw Harry Potter, crouching next to him. He'd pulled up his sweater sleeve and now he rotated Draco's trembling wrist to reveal the Dark Mark. It looked brand new now, a vibrant, inky, pitch-black.

The pressure on his back appeared again. Draco felt in a haze as he turned his head and saw a bleary image of Weasley kneeling on his other side. Confusion tinged his disoriented thoughts. Had they both been there the whole time? Weasley had his hand placed on Draco's bent back and he was saying something to Potter over his head.

Seeing this brought Draco back somewhat, distressed that Potter and Weasley felt it appropriate to touch him. It centered him for a moment, and he realized he could hear himself making pained noises. It was a terrible sound, like a beaten dog, full of misery. Was that really coming from _him_? How long had he been doing that?

Distantly, he was aware he'd been pulled to a standing position. Arms were hooked around him, holding him up. He was practically dragged forward because the mental effort of taking a step was too much to deal with and he found he was unable to coordinate his feet, clumsy beneath him.

The last time he'd been in pain even close to this measure was during the blood ritual. Hanging from the ceiling with Voldemort slowly circling him, sliding that sharp dagger, parting his skin... Draco felt confused. Was he back in that dungeon? Was Voldemort carving him again? Slicing him. Over and over. He desperately tried to break the shackles on his wrists, pulling madly, but they remained tight and unforgiving.

Voldemort paused and surveyed him, face passive when Draco cried out, begging for mercy.

"There is no mercy here."

Draco met those red, slit eyes, throwing down the tattered remains of his Occlumency shield, no longer caring if his torturer found any of his secrets, only wanting Voldemort to feel even an ounce of the pain he'd wrought.

The man who was no longer human chuckled. A hissing, wheezing laugh that chilled him to the bone. "You pledged yourself to me, young Malfoy. You are mine to do as I please." He raised his dripping dagger and dug its point into Draco's chest, continuing undeterred.

"No!" Draco lunged forward. He needed his wand. He needed to defend himself.

Hands were on him though. Pushing against him. Trying to keep him still. Was it Voldemort? Another spike of fire lanced through him and a groaning Draco was forced back down to the bunk, more focused on fighting the pain than on resistance.

He lay there, lost and confused. Memories of being in the dungeon flashed in his mind. He could smell the blood. He could feel the sweat dripping off him as he hung there. The ungodly pain. It was real. He knew it was. He was back with Voldemort to be tormented again. It was real.

"No, it's not real, Voldemort's not here."

Draco's eyes rolled back in his head, the bleak voice like a dream within a dream, barely understood, lost in the ether of trauma. And now the memories of his torture were expanding and changing, turning into horrid illusions. His mother was there now. She'd appeared, standing behind Voldemort who was using his wand to retrace the lesions he'd made across Draco's body, making them deeper, chanting, doing some sort of spell that Draco was in far too much agony to decipher.

She watched this with an anguished face, hands resting on her enormous belly. She was crying.

He tried to reach out, wanting to comfort her. He hated seeing her upset like that, he couldn't take it right now. Voldemort had moved close to her though, abandoning the ritual with Draco and turning his attention to his mother. "Leave her alone!" he pleaded, voice breaking in his desperation and pain. Voldemort ignored him, pressing the dagger to her stomach.

"You too, have pledged yourself to me, Narcissa..."

He plunged the blade inside her.

"_No!_ Stop! Mother!"

Something was being pressed to his lips.

Draco opened his eyes, the vision of Voldemort and his pregnant mum shattering. Everything was a blur around him, he seemed unable to focus. He felt terribly weak.

"You have to drink it, Draco."

Under his nose was a small cup filled with a murky blue liquid. A distressed looking Granger was holding it out to him. He was vaguely aware of being propped up by someone else, hands on his shoulders, giving him the ability to drink without choking. He managed to swallow a few small sips of the bitter substance before another burning wave wracked through him and Draco shuddered, curling.

Granger urged again, "You have to finish all of it."

"Can't," he gasped.

"You can," Potter's voice came from behind him, "come on."

Somehow, he found the strength to lift his head back up and the cup was returned to his lips. Draco opened his mouth with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying to fight through the pain and just drink.

As the cup was finally pulled away, a sudden and insatiable need to sleep took hold of him and an exhausted Draco had no choice but to fall into it.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Imagine Dragons_


	13. Hey Now

As always, please review.

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

_**Hey Now  
**_

Hermione sat on a chair next to Draco's bunk, wringing out a washcloth over the bowl of water on the table beside her. She and Draco were the only ones in the tent at the moment. Harry and Ron had left, going down to the closest village to hopefully fetch more ingredients for her sleeping potion. Unfortunately, she was already running very low, never figuring that they'd need a sleeping potion at all during their Horcrux journey.

Hermione wrung out the cloth again before laying it across Draco's forehead. The first night had been the worst, by far. At points Draco had struck out at her and the others, clearly confused and tormented by his visions and she'd tried her best to just stay out of reach, stepping back and waiting until he'd sufficiently calmed to continue her ministrations.

But after they'd finally gotten Draco to drink the first batch of her quickly made sleeping draught, it was immediately apparent that the potion wasn't as effective as it should be. Even in his magically induced sleep he'd still been squirming and moving around, holding at his arm, alternating between hissing desperately in Parseltongue or just laying there shivering in agony. It was a horrible thing to be witness to. Her draught was clearly no match for Voldemort's dark magic, whatever curse it was he'd put upon Draco. Only Severus Snape would have the ability to make a potion that could contend with it, she thought.

Today though, had been an improvement. He'd been a lot quieter. Much calmer. She desperately hoped he'd officially turned a corner for the better.

As she watched him, Draco muttered quietly, turning. Gray eyes opened blearily.

"Are you thirsty Draco?" she asked, hoping his mind was clear. Over the course of that first day, she'd unconsciously switched from using his surname to his first name. She couldn't watch someone be stripped down the way he had and not think of them on more human, and less formal, terms. For her, for now at least, he had become Draco.

He was saying something, hissing, apparently unaware he still spoke in Parseltongue.

Taking a guess, she took the cup, holding it out to him. "Yes?"

He reached out, holding it unsteadily as he lifted his head. She kept her hand on the other side as he brought it closer, preventing the water from spilling over the sides and he'd just started taking a sip when his face suddenly twisted in anguish, and Hermione was unable to pull the cup back before Draco spasmed and nearly knocked it from her hands.

He lay there with grit teeth, a deep, pained noise coming from his throat. "You're all right," she said, trying to reassure him. Pangs of sympathy running through her. "Just hold on, it'll pass."

When he was able to open his eyes Hermione could see the lucidity was gone again. He seemed unaware of her as he gazed at the ceiling in a strange, unfocused sort of way. Most likely slipping back into the visions that only an uncomfortable Harry knew the specifics of, as he was the only one who understood Draco's desperate mutterings.

Sighing, she took another one of the unused cloths, dabbing carefully at the spilled water on his face, then even more delicately at what had run down his neck. Although he hadn't ever given any indication that the deep, dark scars caused him pain when touched, it was something she couldn't help. He was already experiencing so much discomfort, she couldn't bear to add to it.

Hermione's gaze was drawn to them again as she took the cloth away, remembering how when she first saw the scars, months ago, she'd thought they'd looked almost like Ancient Runes.

She leaned closer, brows furrowed. Along with other varied Latin writings and symbols she hadn't noticed before, it really _did_ look like Ancient Runes...

Draco's breathing suddenly deepened, and she looked up and realized his eyes had slipped closed at some point and he was calm. It was a relief to see him feeling something other than pain. She watched his even breaths, his head falling slightly to the side.

Again, the scars on his throat caught her eye, and she looked down at them thoughtfully.

Feeling somewhat inspired, she stood and went to her bunk, sorting through her pile of books. She pulled out her _Study of Ancient Runes and Their Meanings_, starting to flip through the pages as she returned to her chair. She skipped from chapter to chapter, finally finding the one that she felt most fit one of the carved marks on the side of Draco's neck.

A number of some sort, she realized, feeling a small spark of excitement. Most likely a graphorn. Did it mean something? Were there more? Hermione leaned forward, taking the collar of Draco's white shirt and gently pulling it down. It was an old one of Ron's so it was quite loose on Draco's leaner frame and she was able to reveal his upper arm easily.

Some time passed as she gazed at the markings, then down at her book, trying to find another number in the apparent insanity.

Draco slept peacefully through it all, none the wiser.

She heard the unzipping of the tent flaps behind her and Hermione was broken from her reverie, glancing over her shoulder to see Ron and Harry duck through.

"Did you find everything?" she asked, turning back to her examination.

"Well everything but the hazel and we went 'round and 'round that town searching, nothing to be done for it, you're gonna' have to swap it out for something else..." Ron suddenly trailed off. She could hear him set his rucksack down heavily onto the floor. With pure confusion in his voice: "What are you doing Hermione?"

Quickly, she told them about the Rune she'd found. Adding with excitement, "And if we find more it might mean something. Voldemort made these markings himself so they have to be important right? Who knows, it could lead us to the next Horcrux even!"

Hermione could feel the boys crowding up behind her now.

"What do you mean? How could it lead us to-"

"There!" Hermione said, interrupting Harry, pointing at what she thought might be a symbol. "Another number. Ron, please- my quill!"

Without turning she held out her hand, keeping her eyes on Draco's arm, almost afraid the little mark would disappear before she had a chance to write it down. A ridiculous fear, she knew, but she couldn't help it.

A freshly dipped quill was pressed into her palm. Without hesitation she scratched the translated number straight onto the pages of her book. A rare event for her. But she was so relieved to have found something, finally having a lead to follow, that she didn't care about what she would normally consider an offensive defacement.

"Two, one, and a nine so far. See, that's a hydra," she explained, indicating the small image on Draco's bicep. She suddenly rose to her feet. "Come on, we have to get his shirt off so I can find the rest of-"

"Whoa, whoa Hermione wait," Ron said, stopping her before she could continue.

"Yeah, I don't get it," Harry cut-in, "how is this supposed to help us find Horcruxes?"

"Well I don't know that they will for sure, but they could help us find _something_! This is Voldemort's own writing, I know it's important... I just need to figure it out!" She glanced back and forth between them. Ron was clearly dubious but she could see Harry was interested, probably more eager than even she was to find another lead. She focused on him, handing Harry the Runes book so he could take a look himself. "See? The numbers are clear and when I get them all copied down, I'm going to work on deciphering their meaning. I just need to find them all first."

"I see it," Harry said after a moment, looking down at Draco's arm. He pointed it out for Ron. "The graphorn."

"Oi, clear as day isn't it?" Ron agreed quietly, peering down. "But I'm not sure it really means anything... could just be for that blood ritual, right?"

"Of course you're right, it _could_ be," Hermione said, irked a bit by his casual cynicism, "but you could be wrong too. It _could_ lead us to something else!"

Harry said, "And we don't really have any other ideas do we?"

"No, that's been made clear these last few weeks," Hermione responded testily, and she reached forward, practically snatching the book from Harry's hands. "So I'm going to carry on finding these numbers, shall I?"

This time neither of them attempted to stop her as she carefully lifted Draco's shirt. She gazed down, holding her quill at the ready. Trying not to get overwhelmed by the sheer amount of symbols and Latin, trying not to think about how much pain had been involved in it all. She needed to remain clinical about this.

Harry stayed close while Ron went and sat on his bunk, twiddling with his radio to distract himself. Hermione pushed down her irritation at his lack of helpfulness. He clearly wasn't comfortable with this whole business of examining the unconscious Draco and really, she wasn't comfortable herself, but she _was_ utterly desperate. They'd been wallowing out in the countryside far too long to just ignore this possible lead... and while Ron's current attitude slightly annoyed her, Harry's as of late had frankly begun to worry her. He'd become so _distracted_ by the Deathly Hallows that she felt a certain pressure now. As if Dumbledore himself was counting on her to get Harry to refocus and pay attention to what really mattered- the Horcruxes.

And that was the main reason she was able to push the discomfort and awkward feelings aside, and lean over Draco's prone body. If this is what it took to get to the next clue, find a new path to follow, well then, she'd do it.

They worked in near-silence. Diligently going over every possible Rune. Then, Harry spoke: "Another hydra- there. You see it?"

"Yes," she agreed, looking at the mark Harry had indicated on the sleeping Draco's ribcage, then back at her book, comparing it. "Could be a salamander though?" She couldn't tell if the little symbol had feet or not, which would indicate whether it was a nine or a six. "I'll mark it down as either for now."

It took an hour's time. An hour of inspecting each mark and going back to her book. Again and again. Many times thinking they'd identified one that ended up being nothing at all. They continued undeterred though, and eventually she and Harry found five more numbers. Draco remained asleep through it all, which Hermione was very thankful for.

After finding the fifth, Hermione had to stop, laying the book across her lap so she could rub her eyes. All the dark scars were beginning to mix together and get confused in her head. Acromantula's became demiguise's. Graphorn's started to resemble runespoor's. "I think we found all the Runes on his front," she said through her hands, sitting back in her chair. "I'll do a quick double-check on what we've found so far before we move on."

"Right," Harry nodded, rising from the crouched position he'd taken next to the bunk. "Need to stretch my legs anyway," he said with a wince, walking away.

Hermione let out a big sigh before lifting her book once again. She started up at Draco's neck, hovering her finger over the scar so she wouldn't lose sight of it as she looked away to compare with the picture of the Runes in her book. Two. She moved her hovering finger to the next one on his bicep- one. His collarbone- nine. Ribs- six. Stomach- a hand suddenly closed tightly around hers.

She startled, trying to pull back as she looked up, heart jumping into her throat as she met Draco's narrowed eyes. Lucid now, clearly. And very angry.

"Draco," she exclaimed after a beat of silence, unsure of what to say. How to explain herself. "You're awake-"

He snarled something in Parseltongue, struggling up into a sitting position, the cloth falling from his forehead. He still did not release her hand though, even as he worked with the other to pull his shirt down.

"Calm down," she said, trying to wrench her hand free of him, but his grasp held strong. Almost painful. He was still spitting and hissing. "Draco, calm down!"

"Hey!"

Ron appeared next to her, and he immediately lunged forward, grabbing Draco's wrist. "Let her go," he ordered.

"What's going on?" Harry came up on her other side, wand in hand.

Draco was looking between them all now, eyes wild, quickly going from one face to the next. There was a panicked energy about him and he was breathing hard. With his free hand he was feeling at his sides and Hermione realized he was trying to find his wand, which was tucked safely away in her bag on the other end of the tent.

"Draco, it's all right," Hermione spoke in a smooth, even tone, trying to get his attention. She didn't want this to escalate. He was clearly confused about what was going on. "You just woke up from a sleeping potion. You've been recovering from a curse by Voldemort."

He looked back at her, uncomprehending.

"The Dark Mark?" she reminded him gently.

Slowly he lifted his other arm and looked down at the brand. It was surrounded by bruises from his own grasping hand during that first day, but the mark itself had faded drastically. No longer black, down to an irritated red instead.

Harry, who had put his wand away, said something in Parseltongue and whatever it was must have made some sense to him because Draco glanced at Harry, and then Hermione felt his grip loosen around her and finally release completely.

Ron let him go and turned to her. "You all right?" he asked, worried.

"I'm fine," she said, showing him her unmarked hand, "he wasn't trying to hurt me."

Harry and Draco were carrying on a conversation during this. Draco's breathing had calmed somewhat but he was angry, face flushed, waving at his chest and stomach. Hermione thought he was probably demanding to know why she'd been counting his scars so unabashedly. Why she'd had his shirt pulled up nearly over his head.

It looked like Harry was doing his best to explain what they'd been doing. He'd crouched down and lifted Hermione's Ancient Runes book, which had fallen to the floor at some point. Flipping through until he found the page with her scribbled translations and held it out to Draco, clearly wanting him to take a look for himself.

Draco was having none of it though, he snatched the book from Harry's hand and hurled it across the tent where it landed in the crackling fire, pages immediately curling.

"Oh!" Hermione winced, pulling her wand.

But Ron was faster, hurrying over to kick it away and clear of the burning wood. "Watch it!" he called as it slid across the ground towards her, still smoking.

Hermione knelt down and examined it from all sides. Luckily, while the book had suffered some superficial burns, it looked to be fine overall.

Sighing in relief, she held it to her chest, turning back. Draco had struggled off his bunk during the distraction, now he was standing nearly toe-to-toe with Harry. They were having a heated argument in Parseltongue.

Ron made to go over there but Hermione took his arm, stopping him. She felt he'd probably just agitate Draco even more and they didn't need that. Even as he and Harry were arguing she could see Draco was losing whatever burst of energy he'd had, one hand now clasped on the upper-bunk to keep his balance. His anger was probably mostly over his embarrassment at waking up in such a vulnerable position, and Hermione suddenly felt terribly guilty for not waiting until he was awake to ask him if they could find the Runes in his scars. For treating him like a scroll she was studying for an assignment.

"Draco," she spoke up, interrupting them, waiting until they stopped shouting at one another and he finally looked over. "I'm sorry, we-we shouldn't have done that. That wasn't our place. We've been looking for some clue of where to go next for so long, you know... I just got caught up in my excitement, I didn't even think to wait until you woke up to ask you first. I'm sorry."

He stared, lip curling scornfully as he shook his head. Clearly, her apology did not impress him.

Harry said something and Draco snapped back, and they continued arguing. Maybe her apology had actually helped though, because she thought he did appear marginally less furious.

After another few minutes of this Draco suddenly waved a dismissive hand at Harry, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with the other. The rage was gone from him. Draco just looked tired. Exhausted, really. And resentful. He dropped down onto the bunk with a loud creak, the thin cushion springs voicing their protest. The conversation was over.

Harry stepped back, giving him some space. The other three looked at each other, unsure of what to say or do, an awkward silence falling over the group.

"Hey, let's get some air, huh?" Ron suggested loudly, unzipping the tent flaps and holding one side open. It was in a tone of forced casualness. Silly and obvious. That was her Ron. "Harry, Hermione?"

They followed him outside. Hermione took one last guilty glimpse at Draco sitting on the edge of his cot, head hanging low in his hands, before Ron closed the tent flap behind her.

"I feel so _bad,_" she said, turning towards them, clutching the Ancient Runes book tightly against herself. She'd said it quietly, not wanting Draco to overhear her. "Oh, I should have waited to ask him before going ahead with that..."

"Hermione, we didn't know how long he was going to be effected by his Dark Mark," Ron reasoned, "he could have been out of it for weeks for all we knew. What if those Runes really do lead to more Horcruxes, imagine how you'd feel if we had waited and wasted even more time!"

"And I agreed with you and basically gave you the go ahead," Harry was quick to remind her, "so you can't take all the blame, anyhow."

What they said was true, she knew, but she still felt conflicted. Still mildly horrified about what had transpired. It must have shown on her face because Ron came up and put his hands on her shoulders, shaking her gently. "_You didn't do anything wrong_. Besides, you already apologized! He seemed to cool down after that, didn't he?"

She looked up at him, meeting his earnest eyes and feeling a burst of affection. He was the one that hadn't wanted her to do it, and yet here he was, standing in front of her and trying to make her feel better about everything.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," she sighed. Ron dropped his hands after giving her another supportive squeeze. She had a sudden desire to lay her head against him, wanting more comfort, wanting him to stay in front of her. It surprised her. Feeling somewhat self-conscious as Ron stepped back, Hermione took the Ancient Runes book from her chest, looking down at it to distract herself. "I do still think these numbers mean something..."

Harry, who had politely been pretending deafness and intently studying the bark of a nearby tree while they spoke, turned back. He was looking down at the book in her hands as well, face grim. "I hope you're right," he said quietly, fingers dancing over the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. His own personal constant reminder of Voldemort.

She doubted he even realized he was doing it.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Augustana_


	14. Counting Stars

Thanks for the reviews! Keep 'em coming! They really give me motivation, fo sho.

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**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN **

_**Counting Stars**_

Harry had to make a serious physical and mental effort to hold himself back.

He knew if he bothered Hermione _again_, she'd blow up at him _again_. Even more than she already had. He'd become a pest in her eyes, that much was evident. Not an hour before, she'd responded to one of his simple queries with excessive dramatics, in his opinion.

"Harry I swear if you come and ask me _one more time_ if I've had any breakthroughs I won't be able to help myself!" she'd practically screeched, turning in her chair to face him, wand held in a most threatening manner.

Ron had scratched at the back of his head, sitting across from her at the table, looking awkward and unsure of who to support. So he'd remained silent. The traitor.

Recognizing that he was alone in this battle, Harry backed off, palms up at his sides. "All right, all right!"

It was hard though. Harry remained pacing behind her, worrying at his thumbnail.

"You look ridiculous."

Harry saw Malfoy smirking from where he lounged on his bunk, dressed in over-sized sweat pants and an old jumper that Ron's mum had knitted for Harry last year, bits of yarn coming loose around the neck and wrists. Teacup in hand, open book on his lap, Harry thought he was looking a bit healthier then he had the other day. More rested. Of course this meant he was back to being his usual insulting, insufferable self. And it didn't help matters that Harry was in an agitated mood, which was exactly the sort of thing that would put Malfoy in better spirits, he knew.

This was a rare instance where Harry almost didn't mind being insulted by Malfoy though, because it gave him something else to focus on. "Yeah? I look ridiculous?" he repeated, stopping to face him. He had a fleeting impulse to say something about how 'ridiculous' Malfoy looked when he'd been rolling around, delirious in his pain- but the words died on his tongue. It hadn't been funny. It hadn't been something he'd ever wanted to see. He launched a halfhearted barb instead, "What are you reading over there? Is that the same book you've been reading since you bloody got here? How slow are you Malfoy?"

Malfoy glanced down at the copy of _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_. "What can I say," he drawled, "Rita Skeeter knows how to write an engaging plot. No matter how many times I've read through it, I can't seem to put it down."

"Engaging plot," Harry scoffed, switching back to English and dropping the Parseltongue. "Right. Rita Skeeter wouldn't know an engaging plot if it came and bit her in the-"

"What did you say!"

He jumped, turning. Hermione was staring him down, eyes intense. "Harry, what did you say just now!" she demanded again.

"Erm..." he stuttered, replaying it in his mind, trying to think what she'd apparently found offensive.

Ron cut-in and answered for him, grinning, "He said Rita Skeeter wouldn't know an engaging plot if it came and bit her in her big, fat arse!"

As he finished, Hermione shifted her gaze to him, blinking slowly. "Oh. My. God." She appeared as if she'd just been knocked in the head or something.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, grin slipping. "I was embellishing a bit, but it's basically what Harry said-"

"_I know what they are_! I know what the numbers are!" she cried out, ecstatic, "The runes! Oh my god Ron!" And she jumped forward, leaning over the table, knocking over her piles of books and scrolls and grabbed his face on either side, planting a kiss right on his lips.

She pulled back, diving down into her papers, tearing through them. Ron was left sitting there, staring at nothing- now he was the one who resembled a person who'd been knocked in the head.

"He's going to draw flies if he doesn't close that trap soon," Malfoy said casually, though he couldn't completely hide the surprise in his own voice.

Ignoring his besotted friend and Malfoy both, Harry rushed to Hermione's side. He felt a bolt of excitement. "What is it? What do the numbers mean?" he asked with anticipation.

"Hold on, hold on," she said, scattering parchments and throwing books out of her way. Literally, she was throwing them off the table, where they landed haphazardly on the floor near or on her bunk. Finally, at the very bottom of the pile she revealed a folded, wrinkly paper. "Here it is!"

She took the paper, spreading it out over the table. It was much bigger than it had appeared at first. As she was trying to even out the crinkled parts, Harry recognized it. An old, faded map of Britain.

"The Runes. The numbers," Hermione said, taking a parchment where she'd scribbled the translations from Malfoy's scars, placing it on the side of the map. "They're _plot_ points! It's a geographic location! Longitude, latitude!"

He watched her grab a quill, dipping it in the inkwell before beginning to make small marks on the map. "You're brilliant," Harry said, utterly impressed.

Ron rose from his chair, apparently having recovered from his shock. He was shaking his head as he watched her. "Amazing Hermione."

"Thank you," she said, distracted, "I'm trying to... but it's not making sense..." she bit her lip, confused, eyes darting from her scribbles to the map, "no, it's not working... it's not... Oh!" She smacked a hand to her forehead, looking exasperated at herself. "We don't have all the numbers! Draco's _back_, we never looked- we never translated the Runes on his back..."

She trailed off and it was in near unison that they turned, Harry, Hermione and Ron, to look at Malfoy.

He had just lifted the teacup halfway to his mouth, and he froze in that position, looking back at their expectant faces, his eyebrows high.

"Draco, please," Hermione said, breaking the silence, "we need those numbers to find the location."

Malfoy lowered the cup. "Tell her to stop calling me _Draco_, Potter."

"Did you even hear what she just said?" Harry returned in Parseltongue, ignoring his demand, "Malfoy, come on, without those numbers, we can't do this."

"What, she didn't get enough of an eyeful before? Better warn Weasley about the competition." Malfoy said, snorting as if amused. But his bitter tone betrayed him. His shoulders had hunched up and he looked uncomfortable. "She's probably not even right about it being plot points. A wild guess, really."

As he watched Malfoy put his cup down on the short stool next to his bunk, Harry struggled to remain calm and remind himself that Malfoy had never seen Hermione work things out before, not outside the context of schooling at Hogwarts. He hadn't ever seen her put all the clues and pieces together so they could go off and destroy Voldemort's plans, and that perhaps Harry himself would feel the same way if he was in the Slytherin's position.

But there was another, frustrated and impatient part of him that felt like taking the leftover sleeping draught and shoving it down Malfoy's throat so they could carry on with it.

Harry took a steadying breath, pushing down his annoyance. "We'll find out after we get all the numbers then, won't we?"

Now he was annoyed too: "Yeah? Ever think perhaps_ I'm_ not interested to find out, Potter?"

"Malfoy, I can't stress enough how much this _isn't_ about what you happen to be interested in-" He felt a pressure on his arm and turned to see Hermione looking up at him, shaking her head a little. Even though she couldn't understand a word he was saying, she apparently didn't think he was handling this conversation in the most sensitive way possible.

"Draco," Hermione said, sounding much calmer than Harry had been able to achieve. She stood from her chair and took a step towards him, pretending not to notice how Malfoy tensed in response. Sagaciously ignoring the glowering, unpleasant look he gave her. "I know you're unhappy with what happened the other day and I am so, so sorry about that, but I- we would _all_ really, very much appreciate it if you would let us try and find the other Runes. It could lead us somewhere that will help to destroy Voldemort... I'm sure of it. Or at the very least, it will take us one step closer and pointed in the right direction..."

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, frowning deeply, no doubt about to tell her off and leave Harry with the responsibility of interpreting his harsh and angry words- when Ron, who had been watching the proceedings in silence, suddenly interrupted: "Besides," he spoke up, chin resting on one hand, "these Runes might help you find your mum, mightn't they?"

The sudden intensity of Malfoy's stare at hearing this unexpected statement was almost frightening.

"Why?" His eyes darted between Ron, to Harry, and back again. "How'd he get that idea? Ask him!"

Harry repeated this for him, wondering himself what Ron was getting at, and how he'd come to that conclusion.

"Well, the ritual that got those Runes put on him in the first place had to do with locating Narcissa, didn't it? Makes sense to me that it might have something to do with her again."

Malfoy shifted his focus to Hermione. "Is that what _you_ think?" he demanded, "We could find her?"

Again, Harry translated. Hermione bit her lip as he finished. She looked unsure, unwilling to commit, and she answered slowly, "I- I guess, yes, I could see that being the case-"

Malfoy's entire face changed. The surly suspicion was gone, replaced with a spark of hope and a sudden determination. Harry glanced at Hermione. She was not pleased, her brows drawn together, frowning and she went on quickly to add, "It's a possibility, anyway! One of many possibilities, though, so you shouldn't get your hopes up for-"

Malfoy wasn't listening. He'd thrown Rita Skeeter's book from his lap, shifting to the edge of the bunk. He still moved slowly, as if his muscles were stiff, but with a little difficulty, he grabbed the back of his jumper and pulled it up and over his head.

"Let's go," he ordered, mutilated chest exposed for the first time of his own volition, "tell her to get on with it."

"Go on, Hermione," Harry said promptly, trying to hide the surprise in his voice. He was half-convinced Malfoy might change his mind. "He's all right with it."

"But, I- it's important that he understands this might not lead to Narcissa at all-"

Malfoy glared at her. Her doubt only seemed to be making him angry.

"Hermione..." Harry started as she stood there in indecision, sending her a beseeching look. If she caused Malfoy to reconsider doing this... if her sudden need for complete disclosure made Malfoy change his mind... he didn't know what he'd do... they were_ so close_ to finally making some progress.

"Come on!" Malfoy barked.

Finally, she gave a big huff and began gathering her Ancient Runes book and quill. She wasn't moving as quickly as he'd like though, and Harry had to stop himself from urging her on. She still looked conflicted about the whole thing. He wanted to remind her that this was exactly what they'd wanted to happen and just because it might not produce the results Malfoy hoped for didn't change the fact that it was going to help them get closer to continuing their task of destroying Horcruxes, or perhaps finding the Deathly Hallows. Right now, he'd take either. And if it did turn out to lead them to Narcissa instead... well, it wasn't ideal, but they'd deal with that too.

But he didn't say any of these thoughts aloud, instead, he stayed quiet and took a seat across from Ron at the table. Though Malfoy hadn't specifically stated he didn't want them helping Hermione to study the scars on his back, it wasn't something that really needed to be said. Harry thought it very likely if he or Ron had tried going over there, Malfoy would have pulled his wand on them. So they remained at the table as Hermione carefully took a seat next to Malfoy on the bunk.

He turned, one foot on the tent floor, so she could get a good look.

Biting her lip, looking uncomfortable, she imitated his stance behind him, book spread in the space between them.

Hermione began repeating the same routine she'd done before: find a Rune symbol, write it down, and translate it. She didn't have Harry's assistance this time, but Hermione being Hermione, it didn't seem to matter and she was doing a cracking job on her own. As the time passed, whenever Harry looked over to see how it was going, she seemed to be scratching down yet another symbol in her book.

Unsurprisingly, Harry supposed, Ron didn't seem pleased. Fingers tapping at the table distractedly, his mouth set in an even line. Harry thought this reaction very ironic, since it was Ron's own comment about possibly locating Narcissa that had caused this Rune-search to even happen, which Ron had been well aware of before he'd said anything about it, Harry was sure.

So for his sake, Harry tried to keep his conflicted friend occupied with some small talk, but inevitably Ron's eyes would drift back towards the two. "Don't know if she has to be so close to him though..." he observed darkly.

Harry glanced back, afraid Malfoy had heard and would make some sarcastic comment that Ron would somehow decipher and cause another row between the two. But if he had heard, he'd decided to ignore it. Malfoy kept his head bent, staring down at the bunk, and he said nothing. The only movement from him was his wand hand. He spun the dark stick between his fingers, one to the next and back again.

"I think there's one up on your head Draco," Hermione spoke after a long period of silence, "I can't see properly though, can you lift it please." When he complied she held up her wand, leaning close, squinting. "_Lumos."_ Malfoy's hair was still short so it didn't need to be brushed out of her way. Now that he thought about it, Harry realized Malfoy's hair didn't seem to be growing at all. It still had the shaved look he'd had the first day he'd been turned back to a human. Harry wondered if that could somehow be part of the transformation curse Voldemort had put on him. Or maybe it had to do with the mysterious blood ritual.

Hermione pulled back. "Got it. Good thing your hair is so light," she said, lifting her quill and scribbling away, "I mightn't have made it out otherwise. It's a Fwooper."

Ron scooted back in his chair and it made a loud, scratchy, creak. Harry looked back and saw his friend had crossed his arms and was looking quite grim. "Almost done?" Ron said with a bit more force then he'd probably been aiming for. "Eh Hermione?"

Malfoy turned. He and Ron were making very nearly the same expression. "Inform that clod that I'm no more happy than he is with this current situation," he said sharply. "And tell Granger I don't _care_ if she's found a _Fwooper_ ora _Foper_ or a _fucker__\- o_r whatever _else_. I don't need the running bloody commentary! She can keep it to herself!"

Harry sighed heavily. He hated being the designated translator for someone who lacked manners and basic respect for other human beings.

Despite the distractions though, eventually, it happened. It seemed to take forever, but finally Hermione sat back. She rubbed her eyes before pulling the Ancient Runes book up onto her lap, letting the cover fall closed.

"Are you...?" Harry started, hopeful. At some point in the long hour that had passed since she'd started, he'd laid his arms on the table, his head resting on top, but now he lifted it, watching her. Across from him, Ron sat up from his slouched position.

"I'm done Draco. You can put your shirt on." She looked over at them, smiling as she made the announcement: "We've got all the numbers now."

* * *

_this chapter is named after a song by OneRepublic_


	15. Arc of Time

Sorry for the break between updates. In the process of moving. Soooooo annoying, worst ever, do not recommend, etc, etc, lol

Please don't forget to review! Glad you guys think it's so original :)

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**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN **

_**Arc of Time **_

The moon was bright, hanging low in the sky though heavy, slow-moving clouds were threatening to cover it at any moment. A chill wind blew through the air and Harry did up the top buttons of his jacket as he and the others looked around, taking in the scenery.

This was the sixth location they'd Apparated to. Hermione had put together the translated runes and come up with several possible points on her map. So far, dead ends. The fourth had actually been in the middle of a Muggle town, directly in front of a grocery. Luckily, it had been early morning, and it was closed, so they'd avoided being seen and managed to Disapparate quickly enough.

"That map a few editions old, Hermione?" Ron had asked feebly, rubbing his head and wincing. Apparating multiple times without a break never felt good and Harry was a bit queasy himself.

She'd frowned deeply, turning on him. Harry could see her mood was not good, and he thought maybe it was because she felt defensive and responsible that they hadn't found anything so far. "Well obviously not Ron! I wouldn't have said we should go there if it had!"

He'd put his hands up in a gesture of peace immediately. "No, I know, I wasn't saying you did it on purpose-"

"On purpose, really? I can't believe you'd even _think_ that-"

Harry had stopped them both before they got further into it, redirecting Hermione back to the map so she could point out where to go next, while Ron shot him a grateful look.

There had been no further mention of Hermione's impromptu kiss. His friends seemed to be pretending that it hadn't happened, or at least, putting it to the side to be further explored at a later date. Harry was sure if Malfoy wasn't so distracted by the idea of possibly finding Narcissa, he'd have been making endless, annoying comments on the subject. As it was though, he seemed as focused as Harry on getting to the next place, and finding where ever the Runes led. When Hermione and Ron got into their squabbles he'd just been extremely annoyed and very impatient, demanding Harry tell them to shut up and get on with it.

"Hey, there's something that way," Ron said, pointing. His breath came out in visible puffs of air. "See it? Through the trees."

Harry followed his motion and he thought he could make out some sort of structure in the distance. It was shadowed in the fog though, and hard to see very far though the branches clustered around them. "Let's get closer."

He took the lead, trying to find a path that wasn't too difficult to navigate through in the thick forest. The branches clung to his clothes until he brushed them away, or they broke off, the snapping sound echoing around them.

It was just bright enough that he decided not to use the Lumos charm to light his way and it wasn't long before they found the edge of the trees and walked out onto a grassy landscape. Through the fog, Harry made out a fuzzy image of a small herd of wild horses, grazing in the distance.

Harry turned his attention from them to the structure Ron had spotted. He could see it was a stone archway, rising up from a pit of some sort. The pit itself was also made of stone, with large, descending steps circling all the way around, completely surrounding it.

"Like an amphitheater," Malfoy said quietly, as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud. He pulled ahead of the others as they drew closer.

It was relatively small. It looked like it could fit maybe thirty or forty spectators comfortably. As they neared, the archway itself drew Harry's eye again. It's pillars were sculptured with incredible detail, resembling thousands of thorned vines that twisted and twined together through the eye sockets and mouths of skulls. This continued all the way to the curve at the top where there was something written across in a language Harry didn't recognize.

Beneath the grand and ominous work of art was a large stone slab, rising five feet above the ground. Unlike the other piece, this part was plain and bare. No script or symbols adorned it.

Hermione spoke, voice hushed, "That writing, it's similar to the scars..." She made a vague gesture towards Malfoy.

Malfoy didn't look at her, he was still staring down into the shallow pit, at the stone table.

"No idea what it says?" Harry asked her.

"No. And I haven't been able to translate it. It's like Latin, but... not. It's very strange. I don't know where Voldemort found it, or what its origins are."

Malfoy had stopped at the very edge of where the first step dropped down. "This is where he plans to do it," he said, grim, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of the hooded, loose-fitting sweater he wore. "This is where the Dark Lord's going to sacrifice that... _thing_... so he can restore himself to his original body."

Harry looked down at the large, concrete slab again. Malfoy was probably right. The lettering matched his scars. The translated Runes had led here. It made sense. He told the others what Malfoy had said.

Hermione was nodding her head in agreement before he'd even finished. "Yes, I was thinking the same. It almost seems like something we should tell the Order, doesn't it?"

"Well not with a traitor in there, passing along information," Ron said, somewhat carefully, perhaps unsure if Hermione would blow up on him again.

As Harry listened to them discuss whether or not to inform the Order, the archway grabbed his attention again. He had a vague feeling of familiarity when he looked at it, he realized. As if he'd seen it before at some point. But where? He racked his brain, trying to remember.

"... not a good idea," Ron was saying with more confidence. "We can't tip You-Know-Who off that we found out about this place."

"Well, I wasn't saying we _should_, I was only pointing out that it seems like something that normally would be prudent to inform them of-"

He blocked them out. Harry had definitely seen this place before. He was sure of it now. He looked around, away from the pit, hoping he'd recognize something else that would give him a clue.

The horses had noticed them now, some had their heads up, looking in their direction. But it was what Harry saw behind the herd that drew his eye. Far in the distance, he noticed several plumes of smoke, nearly indiscernible, rising up into the sky above the fog and Harry could just make out the very top spires of what he thought must be a castle.

Then, he remembered. In a flash, a memory came to him.

_The light-haired woman straightened on her chair in surprise, pulling back from the little window she'd been gazing out of. The window looked down onto a stone archway far in the distance, set in the middle of an expansive grassy field. _

"_Quite a view isn't it?" Voldemort hissed, gliding further into the room. "You'll see it up close in the future, I promise."_

"I know where Narcissa is," he breathed suddenly. "I... I think I've seen this place before."

Hermione and Ron immediately stopped their bickering, looking over with varying degrees of surprise while Malfoy spun towards him. His wand was out, as if he was going to attack. "Where?" he demanded, coming closer. "_Where_?"

Even though he knew Malfoy was only reacting to the shock of what he'd said, Harry still felt the impulse to draw his own wand as Malfoy advanced towards him. He brushed it aside though, forcibly reminding himself Malfoy was not the enemy. Instead, he pointed up at the castle. "There."

More clouds had rolled in, so it was even harder to make out, but from Malfoy's sudden clenched fists and resolved face, Harry knew he'd seen it. "Remember that vision I told you about, that Voldemort was keeping her locked in a room? Back when you first got with us? It was _here_. I saw this place. Narcissa was looking down at it from a tower of some sort. It's got to be where she is."

Again, he replayed the memory of what he'd seen through Voldemort's eyes, and again, Harry could see it: a far away view of the stone archway, but not far enough that he couldn't recognize it. He recalled how Voldemort had ominously promised Narcissa that she'd be seeing it up-close in the future. But Harry omitted that part when telling Malfoy. The Slytherin was clearly already agitated enough, as is.

Malfoy glanced back at him. "Was there anyone else with her?"

"Voldemort. And Death Eaters. If she's still up there, he's definitely got them stationed in the room to guard-"

"Harry speak English," Hermione suddenly cut-in, anxious and impatient. "We can't understand you! Are you saying she's up in that castle? How do you know?"

He hadn't realized he'd been speaking Parseltongue. He always slipped into it unconsciously, it felt so natural to him. Harry quickly recited an abridged version of what he'd just discussed with Malfoy for the others.

"Do you think You-Know-Who is there with her too?" Ron asked. The worry was obvious in his voice. "There's still two Horcruxes we haven't found yet."

"I don't know. My guess? I think he's probably out trying to find the Elder Wand," Harry said. He was sure of it, actually. No matter how much Hermione frowned, looking doubtful, as she did at that very moment. "I bet he wants it _specifically_ to perform the sacrifice."

"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed, "we still can't be sure the Deathly Hallows are even real, it's likely that-" she stopped, "hey, wait, Draco!"

Malfoy had started off, marching away. Fog curled behind him in his wake. He did not slow down at Hermione's call. "I don't have time for this. I don't care about whatever the hell Horcruxes are, and I don't want to hear another word about bloody fairy tales!"

When Malfoy's angry hiss finally faded away, Harry shared a glance with the others. "Let's go..." he said eventually, "It's his mum, after all."

At first he tried to catch up with Malfoy. Harry wasn't really sure if he wanted him at the front like that, not in the troubled emotional state he was surely in, worrying about his mother. He might not notice trouble or not be looking out as carefully as he should.

Malfoy didn't seem keen on any company though. Every time Harry got close, Malfoy pulled ahead again, maintaining his lead. Eventually Harry gave up on it, settling back with his friends. He figured they were near enough that whatever Malfoy could see, they could as well.

He glanced up as they walked, taking in the image of the imposing spires and rising columns of the castle, seeing a clearer image of the dark brick of its wide, sprawling walls then what he'd seen before. They extended further out then Harry had supposed. It was huge.

Ron let out a low, appreciative whistle at the sight.

This was too much for the horses, who had been sure to keep a wide berth of the approaching group. They were spooked by the noise. The largest one reared back and gave a loud neigh before running off, its tail waving like a flag behind it while the others followed, disappearing into the gray, one by one.

"I wonder why he stopped?" Hermione said.

Harry turned from the view of the retreating herd and saw that Malfoy was standing still. It looked like he was staring down at the ground. Confused, Harry wanted to call out and ask what the problem was, but they were close to the castle now and he was worried about Death Eaters possibly overhearing them.

As they neared, Malfoy glanced up. "Looks like it's going to be a little more difficult than I'd thought," he said bitterly.

Then Harry saw what had stopped him. A moat of water, creating a divide from the green grass on the opposite side. With a furrowed brow, Harry leaned over to get a look down into the gap, trying to gauge how difficult of a jump it would really be.

A cold rush of shock ran through him at what he saw waiting below. Malfoy hadn't been talking about the distance.

Down in the water, gliding slowly across its surface, was the bony, plated back of what he assumed was a massive alligator. Its movements were smooth, barely creating a ripple in its wake. Dark shadows moved ominously beneath it, and he didn't doubt that there were more, hiding away and out of view.

He heard Ron swallow nervously. Hermione's eyes were wide, lips pressed together in a tight line.

"We can do this," Harry said with confidence, trying to reassure them. They looked as spooked as the horses had been. "Really, it's not that far of a jump."

Yet another alligator's long snout appeared from underneath the still water. Its soulless, reptilian eyes rolled upwards, looking straight at them.

"Merlin," Ron breathed.

Harry had to admit, it was intimidating.

Beside him, Malfoy was backing up. Harry glanced over, assuming he must be scared and reconsidering the jump. That idea was quickly quashed when he saw the calculating way Malfoy was staring at the gap, eyes darting about. He was clearly judging how much of a running start he'd need to make it over.

"Give me some space," Malfoy ordered.

Somewhat surprised, Harry obliged, taking a few steps. He'd been expecting to be the first one to try the jump, but Malfoy looked determined and Harry wasn't going to try and stop him. "Make sure you push off at the very edge, Malfoy," he advised, "it's no joke."

"Really? The very edge?" he returned sarcastically, "You think?"

"Especially when there's monsters waiting to eat you if you mess up," Ron added, unhelpfully.

Malfoy leveled a look at both of them, thoroughly unimpressed.

Hermione was still gazing at the water. She seemed bothered by something. "Isn't it strange that the Death Eaters made this moat small enough for someone to jump over?"

"_Hopefully_ small enough to jump over, you mean," Ron said, still looking towards Malfoy, who was now taking a long, steadying breath.

"No, I'm serious," Hermione said with insistence, "it's odd. Moat's are supposed to _prevent_ people from gaining access to a castle. This isn't really made to prevent anyone from doing that, is it-?"

"I'm trying to concentrate!" Malfoy snapped, glaring at her.

Hermione didn't need to understand Parseltongue to catch his drift. She huffed, displeased, crossing her arms. "Well, I think it's strange."

Malfoy shook his head and reverted his gaze. He took another breath.

Then, he shot forward, legs pumping. Harry watched as he reached the drop-off, Malfoy's back trainer pushing hard off its edge- and this propelled him even further in his leap. But something strange happened in the next second, a sudden lightning bolt of green light encompassed Malfoy, mid-air.

It didn't stop his momentum though. The light disappeared almost as if it had never been there in the first place, and he made it successfully to the other side, skidding on the damp grass before he managed to stop himself.

"What was that?" Ron exclaimed, staring at where the green light had been.

"A ward of some sort!" Hermione said. "I told you! I told you something was strange about this! Draco are you all right?"

Malfoy, for his part, appeared to be fine, straightening and looking back at them. He'd landed with room to spare. He did look a little shaken up though.

Harry said, "How do you feel? Do you know what that was?"

"It's a Death Eater ward," Malfoy answered gravely, rubbing his underarm where the Dark Mark was hidden under his sleeve. "Only Death Eaters branded with the Dark Mark can pass through it. Granger was actually right... It's a trap. They want people to try and jump over so they'll hit the ward with no chance to do anything about it."

"It kills people on contact?"

"As efficiently as the Killing Curse really. I think the beasts down there," he waved a hand at the languidly drifting alligators, "are just a distraction. A rouse."

"So we can't get over?" he asked, frustrated. Harry gazed at the spot where the ward had appeared. They couldn't get this close, just to run into another dead end. "There's no way us three can get past it?"

"There is one way," Malfoy said, letting his arm drop back to his side. "If you're in direct contact with me as you pass through the ward, then you'd be safe. My Dark Mark would shield you."

"You're sure about that?"

"I'd say so as I've bloody done it myself."

Harry surveyed him, considering it. A Death Eater ward as efficient as the Killing Curse... and only Malfoy's Dark Mark would protect them.

Malfoy looked back at him, impatient. "Look do you want to do it or not? I'm not going to wait around for you to think on it while my mum rots up there."

"Right." Harry sighed eventually. It was always something, wasn't it? "Come on. Get back over here so we can figure this out."

Hermione pounced as soon as it was clear he was done with his conversation with Malfoy. "Well? What's happening? What kind of ward was that?"

Harry answered and quickly began filling them in on the new plan, only stopping when Malfoy called over, ordering them to move back. He didn't have as much space on the other side, so when he started, he had to push off from the castle wall to get enough speed. Again, it wasn't a problem and Malfoy cleared the gap.

Ron was looking suddenly troubled. "Hermione, are you going to be able to do this? It's already a pretty good distance, and it's even harder to jump when you have to hold onto someone."

She glanced over at the moat, then away quickly. It appeared she was purposefully avoiding looking at the alligators swimming down below. There was a ring of doubt in her tone, "Yes..."

Ron wasn't reassured. He opened his mouth, and he started to say something about her maybe staying behind, but she cut him off, looking severe. "Ron. I'm going with you. I am going to get across this thing."

Harry could see she was serious, and Ron recognized it as well. "Well... then... Malfoy'll be on your one side and I'll be on your other side, that way we can make sure you-"

"No. Direct contact, remember?" Malfoy said, coming over. "Weasley would get fried." He paused, seeming to reconsider it. "On second thought, tell him that's a fine idea."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Harry ignored the last part, only reminding Ron about the direct contact. "Oh," Ron grimaced, "right."

"I'll be fine!" Hermione insisted.

"Come on, I don't have time for this!" His annoyance was obvious as Malfoy looked between them. Now that they were so close to possibly finding Narcissa, his already limited amount of patience had clearly reached an end. "We need to _move_!"

"All right. _All right,_ then. I'll go first," Ron announced. It wasn't in response to Malfoy's outburst, it looked like he'd been talking to himself in his head and had suddenly made up his mind. Ron looked back at Hermione, "This way, if you come up short, I'll be able to grab you. Hopefully." He paused, concerned, then said quickly, "Hermione are you_ sure_ you don't want to just stay here, keep an eye out and wait for us to get back-"

"Ron!"

"Fine! Fine!" He stomped away, going to about the same spot Malfoy had started his run from last time. "Come on, then. Let's get it over with."

Malfoy joined him and they stood next to one another, both looking rather displeased about the whole thing. Ron glanced down at the shorter Malfoy. "You'd better not slip up or try to play any games here. I'm serious."

Malfoy sneered, looking away, towards Harry. "Tell Weasley to make sure he jumps at the same time I do. I've seen how how he plays Quidditch. Coordination isn't his strong suit- and I'm _not_ getting pulled down because of _him_."

After they'd hesitated long enough, with matching frowns, the two finally linked hands.

"Be careful Ron," Hermione said anxiously.

Now that it was about to happen, Harry felt a small undercurrent of worry run through him. A small doubt that maybe... maybe Malfoy _would_ let Ron hit the ward without any protection. The hate between the two was palpable. It really wouldn't be that much of a shock, would it? And it would be such an easy thing to say was an accident...

Harry almost spoke up to say something, to warn Malfoy that he'd better not try anything- but they took off before he'd thought of what to say, and he didn't want to startle or distract either of them, so he stayed silent as they raced by. He didn't _really_ think Malfoy had any sort of malicious plan, but he still couldn't help how his heart began pumping as he watched them reach the drop-off.

Ron, with his long legs, was the faster one, and he did push off before Malfoy had. Thankfully, it was only in the difference of less than a second, and their hands stayed connected.

There was a bright flash of green, larger and more luminescent than before, crackling as it covered them in its light. But it lasted only a brief moment, and they passed right through it, making it safely to the other side. Malfoy stumbled some because Ron had landed ahead of him and pulled his arm a bit, but otherwise, they seemed okay.

"Did you feel anything?" Harry asked as Hermione sighed in relief next to him.

"Tingles," Ron said, opening and closing his fingers, looking down at them. "Feels weird. Doesn't hurt though."

For all the fuss that had been made about Hermione crossing the moat, when Malfoy made it back to their side again and she was next up to jump, Harry thought she performed beautifully. She kept up with Malfoy's pace, her hair bouncing, and they made the leap at the same moment.

The ward cracked and popped as they sailed through.

A relieved Ron nearly caught her up in a hug before her feet had even touched the grass, lifting her up and away from the moat, taking no notice of Malfoy pulling his hand away in disgust. He was only focused on Hermione.

"You're right, it does tingle!" Hermione said, smiling back at him as he set her down. They held each others gaze just long enough that the thought crossed Harry's mind they were about to chose this moment to further "explore" that kiss from before.

They broke apart though, both suddenly appearing a bit self-conscious. Ron dropped his hands from her waist and Hermione turned away, readjusting the bottom of her buttoned-up cardigan. "Anyway. See, I told you it wouldn't be a problem," she said casually.

Harry suppressed a laugh at Ron's exasperated expression. He was just happy they'd both made it over without any issues.

There was a sudden splash that drew his attention away, and Harry glanced down. The sounds and flashes of light from them passing through the ward seemed to have agitated one of the alligators below, Harry could see its great tail swishing back and forth, churning the water.

"Watch it!"

Harry looked up to see Malfoy making the jump back over and he moved to give him even more space. Malfoy landed hard though and took a few awkward steps forward to catch himself. Harry thought he looked a bit winded. Which wasn't surprising really, that had been his sixth crossing, after all.

"Take a break," Harry said, "give yourself a minute."

Malfoy's back was bent and he rested his hands on his knees. He took some big breaths, glancing back at the castle. More specifically, up at the soaring towers partially hidden in the fog above, where they knew Narcissa was probably stashed away. Harry could see the concern and worry in his eyes.

"I'm _so close_..."

Malfoy said it so quietly, as if it had slipped out of him, unnoticed.

After a few moments of watching him in silence, Harry couldn't help but remember Malfoy's desperate mutterings when he was under the effect of his Dark Mark. How he'd screamed for his mum. Begged Voldemort to leave her be.

Harry spoke almost without meaning to, "I'm sure she's fine."

Malfoy glanced at him, eyebrows up. For once his face was clear of any sort of sarcasm or contempt, and it surprised Harry enough that even though it felt strange to offer emotional support to Malfoy, he charged through it, adding, "Voldemort wants her safe, after all... I'm sure he didn't let anything happen to her."

Malfoy looked away. After a beat, his expression changed and the usual disdainful look was back in place as quickly as if he'd just pulled a mask over his face. He straightened. "Come on Potter."

He followed Malfoy over to their starting spots without further comment.

Ahead, Ron and Hermione stood close together, watching. Hermione called, "Be careful!"

Harry gave her a thumbs up as he stashed his wand in the inner-pocket of his jacket, on the opposite side of his invisibility cloak for safe-keeping during the jump.

Then, after a brief hesitation by both he and Malfoy, they took each others hands and set off at a brisk jog. Harry did have to slow down just a bit for the fatigued Slytherin but they were still going fast enough that when they reached the edge, he knew they wouldn't have any problems making it across.

Except, he hadn't counted on one of the alligators below suddenly making a charge at them.

Harry saw it from his peripheral, just as they both jumped. Too late to stop.

Harry could see it was aiming for the oblivious Malfoy, and he didn't hesitate- Harry dropped his hand and shoved the other boy away and out of its reach just as the beast exploded up from the water, it's giant jaws snapping down hard in the air with an audible snap, only missing Malfoy by mere centimeters.

Harry saw Malfoy's face start to turn towards him with shock and surprise, and he was reaching back, grasping, trying to get a hold of Harry's hand again, but it was far too late. They were in mid-air. The damage was done.

A searing green encompassed Harry's vision at that very moment. It was like an electric shock going straight to his brain; an incredible burst of power running through him, burning Harry's nerve endings in its wake, leaving nothing behind.

Harry's eyes rolled back in his head, and he knew no more.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Bright Eyes_


	16. Wolf

Well, finally got all moved in. Hopefully no more breaks in updating from here on out

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

_**Wolf Mother  
**_

"_Harry_!"

To Hermione, it seemed like everything happened in slow motion. As soon as they lifted off from the other side, the sequence slowed down in her mind and she felt she would never forget how Harry's body spasmed helplessly. He jerked and twitched as the green lightning crashed through him, holding him in place, his head thrown back. It felt like minutes that he suffered, although in reality it was only the briefest of moments before Draco managed to snatch up his hand again.

As soon as they were linked, the ward mercifully released Harry and hurled them both forward at an amazing speed, as if it was spitting them out.

As one, they slammed into the curve of the moat's wall. Draco gave a deep gasp of pain as his stomach and chest impacted against it, clearly knocking the wind out of him. Harry had hit the wall right along side him but he made no sound. His limp body started to slip backwards.

Reeling from their shock and horror, she and Ron jumped forward at the same moment, each grabbing one of Harry's arms. He was a dead weight as they started to pull him up, but it wasn't a problem, not with both of them.

Then, suddenly, the forward movement stopped. They pulled and tugged but there was some sort of resistance holding Harry back. "What the hell!" Ron growled, frustration and desperation melding together.

"He's stuck on something!" she cried.

As they struggled with Harry, Draco was scrabbling at the grass, trying to find a hold as he gasped to draw air. He, too, had started to slip.

"Pull Ron!" she urged, doing the same herself. Digging her feet in, putting all her strength into it.

Finally, there was a loud, ripping noise, and Harry came free. She could see the front of his jacket had been destroyed- caught on a rock or something, most of the buttons ripped away or left fraying. His invisibility cloak and wand fell loose onto the grass as they dragged him forward. Slowly, so slowly, up and over the edge.

Ron's eyes flicked over to the side before focusing back on Harry. "Malfoy- get Malfoy!"

Hermione turned to see that Draco had slipped even further and she moved quickly, grabbing his wrists, preventing his slow but inevitable slide backwards. She tried to pull him up, but found it was impossible, he was far too heavy for her alone. Draco looked somewhat alarmed by this and kept shifting around. "Hold on," she told him, tightening her grip, afraid she'd lose it. "Stop moving!"

Draco stilled. Then he glanced back over his shoulder.

His expression changed from slight alarm to full-blown hysteria. He started kicking at the muddy wall, trying to propel himself up. The alligators must be doing something, Hermione guessed, but she couldn't see down into the water from where she was, so she had no idea what Draco had seen to agitate him so. But it didn't matter, because Draco's movements were threatening to pull her over the edge too. She felt herself losing her footing and her grip.

"Draco,_ stop_!" she said desperately, straining to hold his wrists. She doubted he'd even heard her, doubted her voice had managed to filter through his own panic, because he didn't stop, he kept at it, jerking her arms around as he struggled.

"No!"

It happened: his wrists slipped through her fingers, and she stumbled backwards from the sudden lack of his counterweight, holding nothing but air.

Heart in her throat, all she could do was watch as Draco disappeared over the ledge.

At the same moment, Ron came running from behind and made a sudden leap, landing hard on his stomach, sliding forward like a baseball player going face-first for home plate, reaching down with both hands.

A loud, gargling, choking sound echoed up from the moat.

Finally regaining her footing, Hermione ran over, looking down over the drop-off. A rush of relief ran through her as she saw that Ron had somehow managed to grab the hood of Draco's sweater. He hung from it, back against the mud wall, making desperate efforts to breathe as the fabric pressed into his throat.

Ron's muscles were bulging as he struggled with grit teeth, pulling the Slytherin up and away from the excited alligators below, snapping at each other in their eagerness and agitation, water churning madly.

She crouched down on her knees and got a hold of Draco's arms, relieving the weight from Ron somewhat, and with Hermione helping, they eventually managed to drag him slowly over the edge and onto the grass.

Coughing weakly, Draco lay still where they left him, rubbing at his red and painful-looking throat.

Ron didn't move either. Collapsed where he was, clearly exhausted from all his rescue efforts. Breathing hard, he rested his forehead against an arm. Hermione gave him a pat on the back before struggling up to her feet.

Harry. He was the only thing on her mind now. She needed to see Harry.

He lay behind them, on his back, in the same position Ron must have left him. She could hear his breaths going in and out in strange, short, uneven bursts. It made her stomach flip to hear that. It scared her.

"Oh Harry," she said, getting down on her knees next to him. Of course there was no response. There was no color in his face, just a pallor of gray. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown, black nearly completely covering the usual vibrant green. She felt a shiver of fear again, seeing the jerky movements of his chest as he breathed.

Feeling at a loss of what to do, she turned, looking back at Ron.

"It looks bad," she said, voice shaky, "really bad."

Ron found the strength to make his way over to them. As he kneeled and gazed down at Harry, she saw the same fear and worry that she felt playing across his face. "We... we need to get him out of here."

"How though? How are we going to get him back across the moat now?" she asked.

Ron swallowed, rubbing at his head. He had no answer.

Feeling a growing desperation as the silence stretched between them, Hermione turned, looking towards Draco who had pulled himself up to a sitting position. "Is there _any_ way to deactivate that ward?" She asked, "Do you have any ideas? Think about it, just _think,_ maybe there's something you can remember-" But he was shaking his head during her questioning, not even letting her finish. He looked so sure about it.

She felt conflicting emotions rise within her. She wanted to argue with him. Plead with him. Go over and shake him. He must know _something_. Something about how the ward worked. Something that could be useful. Something that could help them get Harry away from this place...

Draco had climbed up to his feet and he was pointing now, up at the towers, rising far above them.

Seeing this unexpected sight pulled her from her frantic thoughts. "What?" she asked, confused.

He pointed at the towers, then himself, then at her and Ron. His eyebrows were up.

They stared at him, and finally, an incredulous Ron demanded, "Are you asking if we're going to go up there to try and find Narcissa still?"

He nodded. And he looked impatient. Somehow, his expression, his stance, the very air around him shouted, "Of course."

Hermione couldn't believe it. "Draco we're not... we're not going to leave Harry behind! We have to get out of here! He needs _h__el__p_!"

Draco reverted his gaze from them, back towards the castle. He had a contemplative look on his face. Like he was seriously considering forging on ahead without them.

"You're not leaving us behind Malfoy," Ron said, clearly thinking the same thing she was. He rose to his feet, angry as he stared the other boy down. "I can't believe you'd even think that's a possibility that we'd just leave him here, and have you forgotten we need _you_ to get Harry back across this thing-!"

"To get _all_ of us back across!" Hermione amended for him, interrupting. None of them would be going anywhere without Draco's Dark Mark. If he left them behind, they would be literally stranded, at the mercy of any Death Eater who crossed them. "And we'll come back here as soon as Harry's safe, we're not going to leave your mother behind," she assured him quickly.

But Draco appeared not to be listening, he was looking towards the moat now, making no indication that he'd heard her.

No, not the moat, she realized. His eyes were on Harry's invisibility cloak, it was laying out in the open, only feet away from him. She'd completely forgotten about it falling out of Harry's ripped jacket.

Recognition and something like hunger flashed in Draco's eyes.

All of this happened in mere moments and before Ron or Hermione could say a thing, or even realize what he was planning, Draco made a move to grab the cloak.

"Stop!" Hermione went for her wand, thinking a stupefy charm would do the trick, but like a scene from a bad movie, she had trouble pulling it from her pocket. It was in an awkward position.

Ron didn't go for his wand, instead running forward to stop him, but in his rush he tripped up over Harry's leg and stumbled, falling to a knee.

This was all the time Draco needed. In one smooth move, he pulled the cloak up from the ground, whipping it out and draping it over himself.

There was nothing to be done; he disappeared in front of their eyes.

* * *

It had been almost too easy. The Death Eaters patrolling the castle were none the wiser as he slipped by them, keeping his steps light and silent. He'd been lucky too, as he'd made his way to the front of the fortress, walking up the staircase, there seemed to be some sort of shift change happening. The huge, iron doors of the castle were opened, a few Death Eaters streaming outside while others waited to go in. Draco only had to follow along behind them, keeping a safe distance to avoid detection. That was it. His Dark Mark protected him from their defensive wards. He made it inside the castle.

He broke off from following the group as they stopped at the front room, lounging about in chairs around a roaring fireplace. He decided to follow the path of lit candles mounted to the side of the castle walls, lighting the way up a sprawling, majestic staircase. Up was good. Up led to the towers where Potter had said his mother would be. Or had been. Would _hopefully_ still be.

The staircase led to a long hallway with another set of spiraling staircases at the end that diverged into two separate directions. Again, candles were lit, clearly directing the path that he should follow and Draco didn't question it. He ascended the stairs.

As he walked, he kept an ear out for the sound of someone approaching from above. He desperately wanted to avoid any sort of confrontation. He was very tired and very sore and if there was a fight, he knew he wouldn't be much of a challenge. A significant bruise was probably spreading across his chest where he'd hit that moat. His neck hurt like hell. He just wanted to find his mother as quickly as possible, hide her under the cloak, and get away from this place. As far from anything to do with Voldemort as he possibly could.

He didn't care about anything else.

But, even as he had that thought, a sudden twinge of guilt flickered in his gut, and though he tried not to think about it, he couldn't stop the sudden image that came to him. The shocked and betrayed faces of Granger and Weasley, with Potter lying senseless behind them.

When the opportunity to leave them behind presented itself in the form of Potter's invisibility cloak, he'd grabbed it- literally and figuratively. At the time, Draco hadn't had any hesitation about it either, rather easily avoiding their attempts to stop him. Had they _really_ thought he was going to sit around with them and wait for Potter to regain consciousness while the chance at rescuing his mother slipped through his fingers? A preposterous assumption on their part. Just ridiculous. Of course, he had every intention of going back for them... He didn't plan to leave them stranded indefinitely. But he had his priorities.

Still, and somewhat to his own surprise, the small feeling of guilt persisted, weighing on his conscious. Defying his own logic.

Frustrated, Draco shook his head. He was literally in the same building as his mother. He couldn't afford to let thoughts of Granger, Weasley and Potter distract him. His focus needed to be on finding her. She was _depending_ on him. No one else was coming.

With that in mind, Draco tightened the cloak around himself and forcibly pushed any thought of the others out of his head.

It seemed fate was on his side tonight, and Draco's luck continued to hold out. He didn't bump into anyone coming down the stairs, there was no close encounter to avoid, and the mounted candlesticks burned brightly one after the other, and he followed them like breadcrumbs, blindly hoping they'd lead him to where he needed to be.

"How can this be such a difficult task for you!" a disgusted voice suddenly cut through the silence, haughty and loud, echoing down the hallway of the staircase from above. Draco paused, foot hovering in the air over the next step. Were his ears deceiving him? Had that really been...? "Unbelievable! Bring me a _proper_ cup of tea you utter buffoon!"

At this, Draco felt a grin break across his face, adrenaline flooding through him as soon as he recognized his mother's voice. It was her. It was really her.

Without missing a beat, he sprinted up the remaining stairs, taking them two or three at a time.

The landing opened up into a large corridor, candles lining the walls on either side with a huge door propped open at its end, light pouring through into the shadowed hallway. Draco stuck to one side, making his way forward carefully, being sure his steps were silent and forcing himself to slow down and stay calm. It was hard though, his heart felt it might beat outside his chest, he was so excited. And nervous. And hopeful.

"That's all the tea we have, I don't know why you think you can just- just _demand_ whatever you want-" another whining, pettish voice came from the room ahead.

His mother interrupted coldly, "Wormtail, I don't want to see your face again until you have successfully brewed something digestible. Go!"

"You can't talk to me that way! You have no right-!"

"Wormtail," a new person cut-in, a deep voice that Draco didn't recognize. Whoever it was, they sounded more than brassed off with the entire conversation. "Just go get the bloody tea!"

A period of silence passed, then the door ahead of him was pulled back with a loud, low-pitched creaking and a scowling Peter Pettigrew appeared. He held the handle of a teapot clenched in that creepy silver hand of his.

Draco pushed himself up against the wall, holding his breath as Wormtail approached. He could hear the short man muttering petulantly to himself, and as he got closer Draco made out what he was saying. Very unpleasant and insulting things about his mother. "It's not fair... don't know why they tolerate that bitch's behavior... snooty cunt... and why is it always _me _walking down these bloody stairs..."

Draco glared down at his balding head as he passed by. He'd never liked Wormtail, and he'd have thoroughly enjoyed putting a wand to his back, maybe curse him with jelly-legs and shove him down the staircase he apparently hated so much. He refrained though, staying still until Wormtail began descending the stairs and Draco could no longer see him.

He refocused, quickly crossing the distance to the large, heavy door, which was still ajar after Wormtail's exit. There was just enough space for him to slip through, but Draco stopped himself at the threshold instead, peering inside.

There she was. His mother.

She sat at a small table across the room, hair tied up in tight bun with a book spread in front of her, though she didn't appear to be very interested in it. Her eyes kept wandering up to the window, looking out into the foggy night view before her. Even from this distance, Draco could see the heavy, dark circles beneath her eyes, the stress lines around her mouth from frowning. Her stomach was huge under her black robes, nearly pressing against the tabletop.

He was caught up in his relief, completely distracted by just the picture of her sitting there, so close, alive, unharmed, that he hadn't even really noted the two Death Eaters in the room with her. It took one of them adjusting noisily in their chair for him to finally pay some attention- and when he recognized them, Draco gripped more tightly to his wand.

The killing-obsessed Walden Macnair was the one closest, the Ministry of Magic's executioner for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. He sat there with arms crossed, eyes severe over his mustache.

Seated in a chair next to him was Augustus Rookwood, scratching at his pockmarked face distractedly, looking bored. They were both tall, muscled, and formidable duelists and Draco knew that surprise needed to stay on his side here.

Draco slid carefully past the door, his chest barely brushing against it, pushing it just the slightest bit more open.

At once, Macnair glanced up, eyes narrowed, staring straight at him. Draco blanched, frozen to the spot, watching the other man rise to his feet.

"What is it?" Rookwood asked.

"Thought I heard something," Macnair's deep voice rumbled. He pushed himself up from his chair and Draco had to scramble to get out of the way as Macnair's hand reached by him, only inches from brushing his shoulder.

The older man grabbed the handle of the door, pulling it open quickly as Draco sunk back against the wall, scooting sideways, trying to put some distance between them.

"I didn't hear anything."

Macnair stood in the doorway, gazing out into the empty hall.

"Eh, it was probably nothin'," Rookwood continued confidently, settling back, ankles crossed in front of him as he stretched his long legs out. "A rat or something. This place wasn't cleaned out very well before the Dark Lord moved us in you know."

Macnair still looked suspicious though. "Maybe." He closed the door fully, doing up the numerous latches and locks on its inside. Eventually, he made his way back to his chair, but he kept his gaze on the door, wand in his hand.

Draco brandished his own wand now. Macnair's instincts were good, and that was dangerous. He'd be first.

Draco steadied himself, pointing at Macnair's chest. He wished he'd studied harder during wordless spell lessons at Hogwarts. It was a very appealing idea to be able to take one of them out without the other being alerted to it right away.

He'd have to make do.

"_Stupefy_!" he yelled, and a shocked Macnair had no chance. He only had time to just begin to look in Draco's direction before the red light hit him straight in the heart. As his unconscious body flopped down face-first to the floor, Draco turned the wand on Rookwood.

"_Crucio_!" Rookwood barked, jumping to his feet, but he was aiming at where Draco _had_ been. He'd already dodged to the right, but still hidden under the cloak, the other Death Eater had no idea, and his shot missed Draco by a foot.

"_Stupefy_!"

Rookwood stumbled back into his chair, face frozen in surprise as he knocked it sideways and fell to the floor.

He surveyed the bodies for a moment, making sure they were really down for the count. Satisfied, he turned and saw his mother struggling to her feet, a hand on her stomach, the other pushing against the table for leverage.

Her eyes were darting about the room, clearly shocked about this sudden turn of events. "Is that you Potter?" she asked, looking uncertain, "Using that cloak of yours again?"

Though he knew she wouldn't be able to understand him, he couldn't help answering her in Parseltongue: "Not quite," and with a grin, he pulled the invisibility cloak off.

A long moment of silence passed between them, confusion and suspicion clouding his mother's face as she stared back at him.

Then, finally, like a dawning sun, recognition began to slowly light up her features. Her mouth dropped open in shock, her eyebrows went nearly up to her hairline, and she took a step back, gripping both the table and the chair for support as she gazed at him in disbelief.

"D-Draco? Is...? I...? _Draco_?"

He laughed. He couldn't help it, her face was priceless, he'd never seen her look or sound so dumbfounded before in his life.

"_Draco!_"

She made to rush forward as fast as she could with that huge stomach of hers, although it was more of a waddle. She grabbed his upper arms, her grip strong. Then she reached for his hands, squeezing them. It was as if she was trying to determine he was really in front of her, and not just a mirage or a figment of her imagination.

"How...?"

She looked up at him again, and Draco saw her eyes were full of tears. This probably shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her cry, not since he was a child, he thought. "Your hair..." she said, gently touching it, then bringing her hand down to rest against his cheek as she gazed at him, clearly overwhelmed.

"How?" she said again, voice choked up but more demanding this time. "How are you here? How do you have that cloak? How are you- how are you_human_ again?"

Her hands moved back to his arms, and she shook him, insistent. "Answer me!"

"I would if I could..." he said, grin slipping some. He wished Potter was here with him, to translate. All the times he'd imagined their reunion, it hadn't involved him not being able to communicate with her. He waved a hand at his throat helplessly, hoping that she'd catch his drift. "This is the best I can do."

She was sniffling, wiping at her eyes. "Is that... are you speaking Parseltongue?" she asked, eyebrows drawing together. "You can't speak normally?"

He nodded, grateful she understood so quickly.

"Come. Come here," she turned, holding one of his hands and dragging him back to the table. Beside the open book she'd abandoned, there was an inkpot and a quill with some parchment. "Quickly, just- tell me as much as you can," she said, pushing him into the chair. "Are you working with the Order or did you come alone?"

He took the quill, shoving the book out of his way. But he hesitated a moment over the paper, not quite sure how to answer the question. Was he really 'working' with anyone? He supposed he was, in a way.

_**Not Order just **__**Potter. **_He finally decided. _**He's**__** outside with others. Waiting for us.**_ _**He's**__** injured.**_

She stayed beside him, reading as he scribbled. She kept a hand on his shoulder. It seemed like she didn't want to break contact with him, afraid he'd disappear.

_**We have to go. Wormtail back soon.**_

Draco underlined this a few times, looking up at her.

"We have time, tell me more. Why can't you speak? How are you human again?"

He fully disagreed though. This wasn't the right moment for explanations and stories. Frowning, he held the parchment up, jabbing it with the quill, forcing her to read his '_we have to go_' sentence again.

"Yes, I see what you've written," she said, putting a calming hand over his and pushing the parchment back to the table. "We still have time Draco. Wormtail is never in a rush to get back up to this room, believe me. Now, answer my questions. And how on _earth_ did you end up working with _Potter_?"

Draco made a noise of impatience, but she ignored it, eyebrows up, saying, "_Write_, Draco."

They held each others gaze, his angry and annoyed, hers steady and insistent. He'd never been one to argue or disobey his mum though, and he quickly tired of the staring match, knowing it was just a waste of time. She wasn't going to move until she got the answers she wanted from him. "Fine!" he burst out in frustration, putting the quill to the parchment and scratching away quickly.

His mother asked question after question about his situation. Draco's answers were as short and abbreviated as he could make them. He had to chew at the inside of his cheek to try and hold back his annoyance at her and at the wasted minutes, ticking away. He could practically feel each passing second slipping past.

She frowned at his latest answer to her question about what Potter and the others were trying to do. "And what exactly is a Horcrux?"

_**Dont know xactly. Important items to find and destroy. Helps kill D Lord?**_

She tilted her head, looking off into the distance thoughtfully. "Important items..."

Draco dipped the quill before returning to the parchment. In his haste, he dropped big, heavy blots of ink onto the paper before writing again: _**enough, we have to go now**_

Reading his latest statement, his mother suddenly looked uneasy.

He spread his hands out, absolutely out of patience with her. Was she actively trying to waste what little time they may have before Wormtail returned? _**What is the problem?**_

"Draco... you have to understand," she started, somewhat hesitantly, "it's impossible for me to escape with you in my current condition." She laid a hand on her stomach as if to illustrate her point. "I'd never be able to make it down the stairs. We'd get caught in minutes. I don't- I_ can't_ risk having you get captured again-"

He couldn't believe his ears. Did she really think that her staying behind was even an option? He turned away, writing furiously: _**invisibility cloak remember?**_

"No. We wouldn't both fit under the cloak, you'd be left exposed-"

At this, he threw the quill across the room, rising to his feet.

"Draco!" she cried out in surprise, watching the quill collide against the far wall where it snapped in half. She looked cross as she reverted her gaze back to him.

He didn't care though. He was done. Done with any further discussion about it. Done with her hemming and hawing- she had _purposely_ been trying to distract him so he would end up leaving without her!

Ignoring her protests, he unfurled the cloak from his pocket and threw it over his own shoulders. Then, before she could do anything about it, he grabbed his mother around the shoulders and forcibly moved her next to him, closing the cloak around them. It was tight, but it fit.

"Ta-dah," he said grumpily. "Look at that, you were wrong."

Without hesitation, his mother threw the cloak open, walking out. When she turned back to look at him, Draco was surprised to see how angry she was, face red with a scowling grimace in place. But it was not only anger, he realized, when he saw her eyes starting to tear up again. She was scared. Very scared.

"Draco, I'm _not_ going to have you get killed for me!" she hissed, pointing a shaking finger at his face, "Do you hear me?! You shouldn't even_ be_ here!"

Clearly at some point during her months of imprisonment, his mother had come to a sort of peace at the thought of dying at Voldemort's hands. The thought of her son dying though, was too much, and he could see she was coming unhinged.

"I don't plan on getting killed!" he insisted, knowing he wasn't going to be understood, but unable to help himself, "We're both going to get out of here!"

"Leave, Draco! Go!" she ordered, voice wavering and furious at the same time. "Now! _You have to leave!_"

He gaped at her, feeling helpless and confused. He had not expected this reaction and he wasn't sure how to proceed.

The silence stretched between them and was only broken when his mother suddenly groaned loudly, putting both hands on her stomach.

Knees apparently weak, she let herself drop to the floor, moaning in pain.

"What—what's wrong?" Draco rushed forward, not really knowing what to do or how to help.

"Potion... please..." she gasped, eyes screwed tightly shut, "by the bed..."

Panicked, Draco turned and ran for the bed. He looked around, for some sort of vial or cup or something. "Where?" he said aloud, eyes on a simple brown end table, but it had nothing on its surface, and there wasn't even a drawer attached to it. In his desperation, he lifted it up, looking underneath. "I don't see anything! You must have moved it-"

He turned around, and was stunned to see his mother looking distinctly pain-free and currently pointing a wand at his face.

"_Imper__i__-_!"

Draco was faster though, even in his surprise, he'd had a lot more practice with a wand then his mother had lately. With lightning quick reflexes, he flipped his wand into his palm and cried out: "_Stupefy_!"

The red light was absorbed into her chest and she fell back, unconscious, the wand slipping from her open hand.

He stared down at her, in complete and utter shock.

She'd tried to trick him, using Draco's concern for her as a distraction while she'd retrieved Rookwood's wand. On top of that, she'd been attempting to use an Unforgivable against him! Draco blinked, looking between her unmoving body and the wand still slowly rolling across the floor. He was really having a hard time processing it. Almost unsure of how to feel. Before this moment, he'd never have believed he'd ever use a hex against his own mum.

For now, Draco decided to just forget the entire incident. He knew Wormtail couldn't be far now, so he gathered his mother from the floor, hefting her up into his arms with some difficulty.

"Merlin's beard..." he muttered, her full pregnancy weight threatening to topple them over before Draco righted himself and planted his feet firmly to the floor in a wide stance.

This would not be an easy task.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by First Aid Kit  
_


	17. Bittersweet Symphony

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

**_Bittersweet Symphony_**

Draco collapsed against the outer wall of the castle, breathing hard, letting his head fall back to rest against the weathered bricks. The sun was just beginning to peek into view, subdued gold and red streaks lighting the sky.

He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and his arms and legs were like jelly. Adrenaline had left him a long, long time ago and he was officially gassed. Carrying his mother out of that castle had been an arduous and exhausting task. He supposed he should just be happy he hadn't had any issues with Death Eaters except for running into Wormtail making his way back up. Though that hadn't been a problem either, he'd easily taken the older man out with a stunning spell, shoving him into a shadowed corridor before continuing on his way.

It was a struggle to push himself off the castle, but Draco knew he couldn't rest too long. As soon as another Death Eater ran across Wormtail or Macnair and Rookwood, the game would be up, the alarm would sound, and Draco doubted he and his mother would get very far after that.

Forging ahead, he felt his mum begin to slip in his arms and had to heft her higher up using a well-placed knee in the back. He was way too tired to be gentle at this point. Besides, he thought with some bitterness, if she hadn't made him stun her in the first place, they'd never have ended up in this situation, and Draco wouldn't be this exhausted, and his mother would be walking beside him instead of unconscious in his arms and sapping all his energy so _damn it_, if she got a knee in the back, it was her own fault really.

He recognized his fatigue was making him more nettled, even in his thoughts, but Draco was still very sure he and his mother would be having a _long_ talk about what had transpired up in that tower.

As he trudged along the long outer wall, he became aware that the fog had largely cleared and he could actually see much further along the landscape then he'd been able to last night. The others had to be panicking at this point, knowing their cover would soon be completely blown with nowhere to hide. No fog, no darkness.

He was getting close to where he'd left them. Draco could just make out the familiar bend of the moat where they'd made the crossing over from the other side.

"... never should have saved him. Never should have caught him. Shoulda' let those alligators get to him," he heard a dark and morose voice in the distance. Weasley.

"I really can't believe he left us here, with Harry injured like this..."

"Well I can! I told Harry we can't trust him! I _told _him!"

"I thought when he saved you from those Death Eaters, that _maybe _he'd changed-"

"Bollocks," Weasley cut-in, glum and depressed. "Just bollocks."

He heard Weasley and Granger's commentary about him at the same time as the fog parted, and they were revealed in the wispy grey ahead, sitting on either side of Potter, who still lay sprawled on his back, a jacket balled up under his head, giving the impression he was only taking a quick nap. Granger had her knees pulled up under her chin, her face a picture of hopelessness. Weasley sat cross-legged, gazing at the grass in front of him. He too, looked full of despair.

Draco put his head down and plodded forward the last few yards. His arms, his back, _everything_ was on fire and he didn't really care what the others had to say about him at this point. He was in the final stretch, and that was all that mattered. His legs seemed to know it too, and he felt a tremor pass through them, as if they wanted to collapse and give up right then and there. _Close enough_, they seemed to say, but Draco bared his teeth, tightened his grip around his mother, and kept pushing.

When he was nearly directly in front of them, he finally stopped and with some difficulty, he knelt down, allowing his mother to drop softly to the ground.

Then Draco threw the invisibility cloak off, revealing them both fully.

"Oh my god!" Granger cried, reeling back in shock as she looked between them. Back and forth, blinking wildly. "Draco! You- you found her! Ron, look it's Narcissa!"

Weasley didn't respond to Granger. In fact, he didn't say anything at all- but his face was going through a kaleidoscope of emotions, from utter relief, to all-encompassing rage. As if he couldn't decide how to feel about Draco's sudden return. All while he was quickly climbing to his feet.

Draco, who was watching his reaction with faint amusement, was a little slow on the uptake. By the time he realized just how angry Weasley really was, and the imminent danger that presented, he scrambled to draw his wand.

His self-preservation instincts had kicked in a few seconds too late though. When he glanced back up, wand in hand, all he saw was a flash of red hair before Weasley was on top of him.

"_Ooof!_"

Tackled and slammed to the ground before he could really process what was happening, Draco's wand went flying away as the two rolled and tumbled. Unfortunately for him, Weasley ended up practically on his chest and Draco was pinned down, unable to move.

The taller boy didn't waste time, quickly taking advantage of his position and punching madly at the sides of Draco's head. Solid, painful blows.

"You- fucking- slimy- git- !" Each word was punctuated with another strike, knocking him silly.

He could hear Granger behind them, yelling something, but Draco was completely focused on the fists flying towards his face, which he was trying to dodge with little success. Trying to buck the enraged Weasley off of him.

"Get off me you lunatic!" Draco howled.

The bucking-off plan failed miserably, Weasley managed to stay planted right where he was and continue on with the relentless beating. Draco was forced to cower instead, ducking down and covering his head as best he could.

"Harry might've died while you were gone!" Weasley was saying through grit teeth, furious, "He still might! And you didn't care! _You left us here_!"

Then, a punch glanced off a huddled arm and landed straight on his nose- a sudden sharp pain that stunned him, vision flashing white, his arms going slack. Draco felt and tasted blood gushing down his face.

"All right Ron, all right- _enough_!"

Through squinted, watery eyes, Draco finally saw Granger above them, grasping Weasley's shoulders and pulling him back.

Weasley allowed this, appearing slightly appeased by the sight of Draco's blood and he pushed off him, rising to his feet. "You're a piece of shit Malfoy."

"Fuck you," Draco answered wetly, bits of dark liquid flying from his mouth. He rolled to his stomach, spitting the rest out. "Savage." He raised his head, woozy as he looked about for his wand, already fantasizing about how great it would feel when he set the Cruciatus Curse on Weasley.

Before he could put his plan into action, Weasley stepped over him, reaching down and taking the discarded wand for himself. "You're not getting this back either, you prat."

Fury rolled through him. Draco could do nothing but glare as he watched Weasley slip the wand into his own jacket. After his trip out of the castle, he hadn't the strength left to wrestle the wand away from him physically, that much was clear.

What Weasley didn't know, of course, was that Draco already had an extra wand ready to go. Rookwood's and Macnair's were safely tucked away in his mother's pockets. He'd put them there in case they'd been caught and separated during their escape, not wanting her to be left defenseless.

"Alright boys. Can we try and focus now?" Granger spoke up behind him, voice teacher-like and anxious. "We're still stuck here, Harry's still... well, Harry won't be jumping over this moat anytime soon, and it looks like Narcissa can't either. Any ideas?"

She said nothing of the vicious whipping Draco had just gone through, and there was no admonishment in her expression or tone. She seemed just fine with it. Clearly, Granger and Weasley didn't give a rat's ass that he'd come back for them, or that he'd managed to rescue his mother. The only thing on their mind was his betrayal when he'd left them behind.

"My idea is to throw Malfoy down into that moat. That's as far as it goes." Weasley said flatly, stepping around and joining her.

Hot, vicious, anger poured through his veins as Draco wiped the blood on his face, pulling himself up to a sitting position, his head pounding terribly. He paused and cradled it for a moment, because everything was kind of swaying around him still and every part of him was in some sort of pain or soreness, it seemed.

He heard Granger gave a heavy, despondent sigh from somewhere above. "Up here Draco."

He looked up to see she was pointing a wand at him.

"_Episkey_."

Surprised, Draco felt the strange numbness and heat as his nose mended and straightened itself.

"Aw, come on Hermione," Weasley complained.

"We don't have time for this. Harry's not getting any better, and we're running out of cover. Those Death Eaters are bound to find us the longer we stay here! We all need to be thinking at our best. Even _him_."

Her healing spell had indeed helped him focus a bit more and Draco took advantage of his sudden presence of mind to force himself to his hands and knees, ignoring the cramping of his exhausted muscles. He started a crawling sort of limp towards his stupified mother. He knew he must look rather pathetic, but he didn't care- his thoughts were only on retrieving the hidden wands and his upcoming revenge towards Weasley.

As the other two continued their bleak discussion of what to do next, Draco reached his mother's side. He quickly dug through her pocket, and was pleased and relieved to find the wands were still in place and hadn't fallen out during their journey out of the castle.

Triumphant, Draco grasped one and pulled it free, with full intentions to turn 'round and blast Weasley straight into next week with the most painful Cruciatus Curse he had ever cast.

As he opened his mouth though, at the last second as he aimed his wand, he found himself changing his mind. He hadn't used this wand before, and it could be dangerous to use a spell like that without knowing if the wand would yield to him. Instead, he yelled: "_IMPEDIMENTA_!"

Weasley only had time to turn slightly towards him before he was thrown backwards off his feet and through the air, his face a picture of shock, until he landed hard on his back, rolling.

With difficulty, Draco clambered to his feet, managing to throw up a shield just as Granger cast a disarming charm at him, as he had anticipated she would.

He looked back towards Weasley, who had only now managed to stop his backwards sliding. "_Stimdolor_!" he spat with a slashing motion, and Weasley gave a yell as a burning red scorch mark appeared across his face diagonally, cutting across his chin, under his nose, and swelling his cheek grotesquely.

"Stop!" Granger gave up on trying to shoot past his shield and she ran towards him instead, planting herself right in front of him. "_Stop_!"

He eyed her in irritation, then looked beyond at Weasley, who held a hand to his face, grimacing. Before he could fully decide on how to proceed, his attention was diverted- his mother had begun to stir and move next to him. Then, with a rapidness that surprised him, his mother fully regained consciousness and her eyes popped open, looking up at Draco, then past him, at the others. She seemed calm. There was no confusion in her face, it was like she knew exactly where she was and who she was with.

Slowly, she started to pull herself up into a sitting position, and Draco's anger deflated as concern for his mother took its place. He abandoned his revenge efforts and automatically moved to help her.

As he did so, Granger looked relieved and turned and went to Weasley.

"You disobeyed me," his mother was saying as he knelt down beside her, though she was still calm. "You were supposed to leave me behind."

"And you tried to curse me with an Unforgivable, I think that makes us even," Draco returned without hesitation.

She eyed him, displeased, as if she'd somehow understood his words.

"Mrs. Malfoy..."

She looked past him, over towards Granger who was pulling Weasley up to his feet while she spoke again, with clear urgency in her tone, "We need help or- or an _idea_, we're in a terrible predicament, stuck behind some kind of ward-"

But his mother raised a hand, stopping her. "Draco informed me of your situation." She turned away, and her eyes went to Potter, who was only a few feet from her. He had not moved at all, still lying on his back. "Did Potter really touch the Death Eater ward without Dark Mark protection?"

"Yes," Granger said, nodding quickly. She seemed somewhat cheered that his mother was clued in on what was going on. "Draco and Harry broke contact right before they passed through, but it was only for a second though-"

"The length of time doesn't matter," she interrupted, "I need to see." Then, she beckoned Draco, and with his limited help, they awkwardly and slowly moved to Harry Potter's side.

At this point, Draco was forced to really get a look at Potter for the first time since he'd been stricken by the defensive ward, and... he really wasn't looking too good. To be frank, he looked dead. Only his strangely blown-out pupils and shortened gasps of breath gave indication otherwise.

Draco looked away from his pale face quickly, feeling uneasy. He didn't like this waxen, almost ghostly image of Potter.

"No, the length of time doesn't matter," his mother repeated, so quietly it was almost to herself. Her eyebrows were drawn together as she gazed down at the comatose Gryffindor, and she looked most perturbed. "He should be dead."

She stated it as a fact. Almost nonchalantly. As if it was more an interesting observation rather than a happy miracle that Potter still breathed.

Apparently, Weasley took offense to this. As the other two approached, Draco watched the goons hands curl into fists, saying heatedly, "Well he's not!"

Draco turned on him, eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone!" And to back this up, he brandished his wand once again.

Anger crossed his marred features and Weasley reciprocated immediately, looking determined and ready to go.

Before anything could happen, Granger's sharp voice interrupted their standoff. "No!" she said, stepping between them. She looked fed-up and annoyed. "Stop this. You're acting ridiculous, the both of you! We need to work _together_! Ron, put it _down_-"

"Indeed, now isn't the time for this behavior," his mother spoke, "Draco, put your wand away."

But Draco didn't move until he saw Weasley acquiesce to Granger, slowly lowering his weapon. Only then did Draco do the same, all the while sending the Gryffindor an icy glare, hoping it got across the _we'll pick this up later_ message he was trying to convey. Draco still had aching knots on his head and he could feel dried blood under his nose from their scuffle. He wouldn't be forgetting it any time soon.

His mother was speaking again: "And to be clear Ronald, I hadn't been wishing for Potter's demise, and nor do I want it now. I was merely stating a fact. He _should_ be dead. The Death Eater ward is made from the same type of magic as the Killing Curse. And this one was put in place by Voldemort himself... Potter _shouldn't_ have survived contact with it. No one ever has."

Weasley, somewhat less feather-ruffled, said defensively, "Yeah well... Harry's always surviving loads of stuff he's not supposed to."

"Yes," his mother responded after a brief pause, "this is true."

Not only true, but the bane of Voldemort's bloody existence, Draco thought.

"We need to get out of this place, so we can take a closer look at Potter's condition without concerning ourselves with Death Eaters..." She paused, reaching into her pocket. His mother must have felt the wand there, and pulling it free, she pointed it towards the grass directly in front of the moat, uttering a long, complicated spell Draco didn't recognize.

A fiery band of light appeared with a resounding crack, and bit by bit the fire grew, expanding itself over to the other side, burning brightly, and Draco saw that his mother had essentially created a small bridge.

"I need to learn this spell," Granger said.

"Would have been bloody useful before, wouldn't it have?" Weasley lamented, shaking his head.

"Draco will escort us across," his mother announced, unmoved by their impressed expressions.

Granger and Weasley were desperate enough at this point to listen to his mother without argument it seemed. One-by-one, Draco led them across, starting with Potter, whom he used the levitation spell on, and ending with Weasley – whom he had to fight the very real and strong desire to shrug his hand off his shoulder and shove off the bridge.

After they had all safely made it to the other side, they Apparated back to the campsite.

* * *

"Do you know if- _when_, Harry will recover?" the Muggle-born girl asked, biting her lip, looking up at her with her big, brown beseeching eyes.

The tall, red-headed boy stood behind her, the youngest son of the Weasley clan. He had the same, hopeful, yet despairing expression as the girl on his own injured face, his hands working restlessly at his side as he too, waited for an answer.

"I can't be sure. As I said before... it's unprecedented..." Narcissa looked back down at Potter, lying on the cot. She brushed the overgrown hair back from his forehead, better revealing his eyes. Half-lidded and glassy. No change. "Still, I think the fact that he survived at all is a good indicator that he has some sort of _resistance_ to the ward. And, most telling of all..." she waved a hand at his slowly rising and falling chest, "he's alive."

They seemed to take heart at her words, exchanging some sort of look between each other. There was a definite feeling of relief from them.

They had no idea how much of a fraud Narcissa felt like. These two were like children begging for assurance that no big bad Boggart was hiding in their closet, and she provided the authority they needed to believe it so. But in reality, she was no Healer. This was not St. Mungo's. This was an ill-equipped, tattered little tent that she would not have allowed one of her house elves to reside in, and had she any idea on how to help Potter, there were no supplies available to even attempt such a thing.

So she offered them her empty words, and they gobbled it up.

Her son was at the table watching the conversation unfold in silence. From his slightly raised eyebrow and tilted head she could tell he, at least, was not fooled.

Narcissa reverted her gaze back down to Harry Potter, feeling a sort of awe and wonder that this was the boy who Voldemort loathed so. He looked so... normal. Just an average teenager. But here he was. The boy that was supposedly such a menace to Death Eaters everywhere, the boy who foiled their plans at every turn it seemed.

Potter's breath hitched strangely, and there was a long, pregnant pause before he inhaled as he should.

At this, the Granger girl looked like she might cry, all of Narcissa's reassurances apparently forgotten. Weasley didn't look that far off from joining her either.

There was a soft hissing sound, and she turned to see Draco coming up beside her now. He was holding out a small piece of parchment.

_**Sit. Rest your feet.**_

He was right. Just from the short amount of time she'd been up and walking about, they'd already begun to ache, along with her lower back. Damn this pregnancy. Damn Voldemort.

She followed him back to the table, and let out a big sigh of relief as she sank down into the chair across from him. She rested her hands on her bulging, painful stomach, doing her best to keep the discomfort from showing on her face. Luckily, Draco hadn't noticed, having picked up the quill again to start writing.

Narcissa watched him, taking in the vision of her only son, and found herself almost overwhelmed by it. She had so many emotions rise within her as she gazed at him. Happiness, relief, confusion... She'd been hoping and wishing for their reunion for so long, trapped in that tower, with only her thoughts to occupy the time. In all of the fantasies involving her son being turned back to normal, and, in the most outlandish, nearly unimaginable ones that involved Narcissa somehow being freed herself... not_ one _of them had included Draco somehow teaming up with Potter and his two friends.

Without realizing he was being watched, Narcissa took the time to really assess him. He wasn't eating enough, that was for sure. And he had the tell-tale dark circles under his eyes that told of sleepless nights and endless worry.

Her eyes went to the bits of dried blood still on his chin, then back up to the nasty bruises around his temples. She'd noticed them before and had refrained from commenting as she'd seen the matching bruises and flicks of blood on Weasley's knuckles, along with the fiery band across his face, a clear indication of a painful stinging hex which she knew her son was proficient caster of. She'd put two and two together.

Obviously, Draco hadn't been having the easiest time getting along with these people he'd been forced to coexist with. As if to illustrate this, her son and the other boy were continually sending glares at each other and Narcissa had no doubt that her presence was most likely the only thing preventing the two from going at it again.

Draco pushed the paper across to her, and she shook herself from her thoughts. Focusing on the here and now. Whatever Draco's situation had been before was inconsequential. It was over. She was back. She was with him, and together, they would be fine.

Feeling heartened, she started to read her son's neat scrawl.

Behind her, Potter gave another spasmed, hitched breath before settling down once again.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by The Verve_


	18. Once Upon a Dream

It's a rainy, stormy morning where I live. Lightning, thunder, and all that good stuff. Perfect weather for reading/writing, imo

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

_**Once Upon a Dream**_

"It is, I think, almost disappointingly undramatic isn't it?"

Harry glanced up, meeting Dumbledore's crinkling eyes beneath those half-moon glasses of his. "Undramatic is good. I'm really, really tired of dramatics."

Dumbledore laughed, cheery and pleased. "Quite understandable, from your point of view. But I did not expect to meet you again under such, and I don't say this to minimize your sufferings, which I am sure were severe,_ anticlimactic_ circumstances."

"Pictured me in a duel of sorts?" Harry guessed with a half smile. "A sacrificial lamb?"

"Ah, but Harry, you _were_ a sacrificial lamb. By allowing yourself to strike an anti-Death Eater ward conjured by Voldemort himself, with full intentions of protecting someone else, in this case, being Draco Malfoy, you invoked that deep magic left inside both you and Voldemort from your mother's protection."

"And that's why I'm still alive? Because... I let the ward kill me?"

"The ward and Voldemort were one in the same, in this instance," Dumbledore clarified. "So, yes."

"So the part of his soul that was in me..."

Dumbledore nodded enthusiastically, urging Harry onward, a broad smile of encouragement on his face.

"... has it gone?"

"Oh yes!" said Dumbledore. "Yes, it is destroyed. Your soul is whole, and completely your own, Harry."

Harry thought about this. A relief, for sure. But... "There's still two more Horcruxes. And that baby he wants to sacrifice, to get his body back...?"

Dumbledore looked over at him, the broad smile had left, but he still radiated optimism and contentment. "I have only blind guesses as to these matters Harry. I do not know where the last Horcruxes are hidden, but I do believe they are Helga Hufflepuff's goblet, and Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem." He paused, looking thoughtful. "As to this sacrifice, unfortunately, I know nothing of this affair and I can offer little advice except that I do know someone who would be able to help, if you choose to ask them. One person whom might actually have answers for you, that you can trust implicitly and wholly."

"Who?" Harry asked, confused, before remembering their earlier conversation, when they'd been discussing the Horcruxes and the Deathly Hallows, and he frowned deeply. "Oh. Don't say it."

Dumbledore only smiled softly. "Yes, I am speaking of Severus Snape."

Harry looked away, off towards the other end of the empty King's Cross Station, feeling bitter. "Snape murdered you. How can I trust him?"

"As we discussed, Severus' actions were at my request."

"I know, I know, you said that before. But it's hard to believe."

"Yes... sometimes it's hard to accept the truth." Dumbledore's voice was quieter, tinged with sadness, and Harry knew he was thinking about his sister, Ariana, and how he'd ultimately let her down in the end.

They sat quietly for what seemed like a long time, while the creature behind them continued to whimper and tremble.

Dumbledore's tone was calm when he finally broke the silence, and he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Another truth is that you have a choice to make."

"I have to go back now, don't I?" Harry sighed. It was warm and light and peaceful here.

"Well my boy, time passes in a different way in this place, but it still passes, and I'm afraid we're nearing the end of it. I've explained all that I can. I feel quite almost run out of words."

"And I feel like we've barely talked at all."

The old man's eyes twinkled. "Ah, that's the funny thing about conversations between the one seeking information, and the one giving it. Traditionally, the seeker seeks more."

He stood, and Dumbledore did the same, and they looked for a long moment into each other's faces.

"Tell me one last thing," said Harry, "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"

Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry's ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?"

* * *

Harry came back to consciousness rapidly. He felt a great headache circling from the front of his head to the back, throbbing madly. Then he realized the throbbing was coming from his scar, and before he knew it, before he could open his eyes and start to figure out where he even was, he felt the familiar, painful pull of his consciousness being ripped away from his body and straight into a shared vision with Voldemort.

His servants trembled before him, some dropping down to their knees in supplication, faces pressed to the stone floor of the very castle they'd failed to protect from trespassers.

Voldemort's rage would not be so easily tamed.

"_Crucio! Crucio! Crucio_!" His wand went to each, one by one. He felt it was not enough. "_Avada Kedavra_!" he screamed, pointing at the unlucky witch who just happened to be next in line. He did not even register who it was that he felled. He could barely see straight. "You failed me! You allowed Narcissa to be stolen from me! I should kill every one of you! Useless! _CRUCIO_!"

Screams reverberated around him, and Voldemort continued for minutes before finally lowering his wand and turning away in disgust.

He strode over to the strung up men behind him. Rookwood and Macnair had the Devil's Snare plant twining throughout their bodies, avoiding most of their vital organs as it tangled in and out of the skin of their legs and chests before wrapping around their wrists and arms, holding them suspended in the air like grotesque puppets.

The vines dripped blood, and Voldemort stepped in the growing puddle beneath them as he grasped Rookwood's chin, forcing the barely conscious man to look up into his face.

He moaned and twitched, eyes pleading for the release of death. He could not speak, because one of the vines went straight through one of his cheeks, and out the bottom of his jaw. No doubt it had destroyed his tongue in the process.

"I want you all to take a good look at this pathetic creature," Voldemort said, looking back at the others. He could see many were sickened, but they did not dare avert their eyes. "If you fail to retrieve Narcissa Malfoy before the night that the sacrifice needs to take place, you will suffer worse than this. The tortures I will inflict upon you will make this man's suffering seem like paradise." Voldemort's voice grew quieter and quieter as he spoke, but it shook with his rage. "You will _plead_ to have the Devil's Snare puncture your heart, just to end it. I promise you this."

He released Rookwood, letting his head drop back to his chest.

Voldemort stood there, watching as his threats really took hold of the panic-stricken group. His fingers played idly upon his wand, and he longed to use the torture curse upon them all again. Not only had they let Narcissa slip through their fingers, they had interrupted his interrogation of Grindelwald, which hadn't been going well either.

Voldemort felt another wave of fury come over him, remembering how the insufferable old man refused to tell him the truth, only repeating the same lie over and over- that he'd never been the master of the Elder Wand, and he didn't know where it was.

Lies, of course. They had to be...

Voldemort would return to Nurmengard prison to continue his questioning soon. Then he would have the Elder Wand. He would get Narcissa back. The baby, more importantly.

The vision began to darken, slowly fading away, along with the nearly overwhelming feelings of Voldemort's anger.

Harry pulled himself back and felt he'd finally returned to his own head. Back to his own thoughts. To his own raging headache and aching body. Every muscle was sore. As if he'd run multiple laps around Hogwarts after practicing Quidditch for hours on end, and he couldn't help the groan that escaped him.

"Harry?" a shocked voice, mingled with excitement reached his ears. Hermione. "_Harry_?"

"He's trying to find it," Harry mumbled, rubbing at his chest which hurt terribly for some unknown reason, his eyes still closed.

"Oh, Harry!"

He felt her arms circle him in a hug, but his thoughts were still focused and whirling around everything that he'd just seen and heard. "The Elder Wand..."

"Harry- Harry, what are you talking about?" It seemed to take her a second to register what he was actually saying.

"Grindelwald won't tell him," Harry started again, finally opening his eyes and getting a clear view. He recognized the familiar settings immediately, he was somehow back in the tent, at their campsite.

Hermione leaned over him, her hair brushing lightly against his face as she gazed down with a mixture of relief and confusion, waiting for him to say more.

Voice hoarse, he continued, "Voldemort, he- I had a vision and-" he coughed, throat dry from disuse.

"Okay, alright, calm down." She reached over, taking a small cup of water and handing it to him. "Did you say something about Grindelwald?"

He took it, sipping. "Thanks," he said, "yeah, Voldemort's torturing him. Interrogating him to find out where he hid the Elder Wand."

Hermione stared. "He actually said that? The Elder Wand? Are you sure you weren't dreaming? You've had a very serious injury..."

Harry met her eyes evenly, refusing to let her continue down that track of thought. "He's looking for the Elder Wand Hermione. It's real. He thought Grindelwald would have it, but he doesn't. Where's Ron?"

"He's out trying to get supplies, he should be back any minute. Harry, the Deathly Hallows _can't_ be real! Are you sure he wasn't talking about something else?" She was having a hard time grasping it. To her, the Deathly Hallows were still just a story.

For a moment, he debated telling her about his vision of Dumbledore and all he had told Harry... but he quickly decided against it. That would probably only make her more convinced he'd just been dreaming. No, his time with Dumbledore would have to be something he'd share with Hermione and Ron at some later point. "I know what he was saying, I saw it all in the vision," Harry answered simply, pointing at his head. Then, with some difficulty, he threw his blanket off, preparing to slip off the cot.

"Oh." Harry blinked, pulling up short.

It was with more than a little surprise that he saw Malfoy sitting at the table across the room with none other than the very pregnant Narcissa Malfoy. She acknowledged him with a small nod.

Malfoy, for his part, was looking back at him with the same amount of surprise. Clearly, he hadn't anticipated that Harry would make such a remarkable recovery. "Well- back with the living, I see."

From his vision, Harry had known Narcissa had been rescued, obviously, yet... he somehow still hadn't expected to see her. Here. With them.

Hermione was continuing to fuss over him, looking concerned. "Now, slow down, no need to move so fast- don't forget your glasses either-"

She handed them over and he slid the frames over his ears. "How long have I been out?"

"Only two days. Not long. Not nearly as long as we all thought you'd be!"

Narcissa's piercing blue eyes looked him up and down, saying quietly, "It's truly remarkable. You should have died."

"Tell me something I don't know," Harry said. He looked back at Hermione. "How did you guys get her out of there anyway?"

"Well... actually, it was Draco. He rescued her, by himself, and, uhm... long story short, she managed to get us all past the ward when you were hurt," Hermione said, somewhat haltingly. He felt there was a lot of information being left out of this explanation, but before Harry could ask for more details, she rushed on. "We've been hoping- _waiting_ for you to get better. We certainly didn't think you'd be up and around so fast though, so Ron went to find ingredients for potions Narcissa thought might help." She suddenly stopped, biting her lip as she looked down at him. "Oh, Harry!" And she hugged him again, sniffling into his shoulder, "We were so worried you weren't going to make it!"

He looped an arm around her, giving a squeeze back. He thought on his decision to return to the living instead of 'continuing on' with Dumbledore. It hadn't even really been a consideration... there was no way he was going to leave them, alone, with Voldemort alive and two Horcruxes still out there. Not after everything they'd done for him. He broke their embrace, giving her a smile. "Thanks for taking care of me while I was out."

"What are friends for?"

Harry went to stand, and her hands hovered over him as he carefully slid onto his feet. She was clearly still worried he would fall and hurt himself again or something. "Let's go outside and wait for Ron," Harry said, rising as he allowed the fuss, "we need to talk, the three of us. About what to do next."

She tried to ask more questions, but Harry reiterated that he wanted to wait for Ron, and finally she listened and agreed.

Malfoy and Narcissa watched curiously as they were left behind in the tent.

* * *

As they waited on the small hill, Harry finally made out a tall, broad-shouldered figure, still far in the distance. Ron. Head down as he made his way in their direction, back-dropped by a setting sun that cast him in its golden hues.

The wind had picked up in his absence, and it blew loudly across the field. One of the tent's window flaps had come loose next to them and it made a terrific racket whipping back and forth. Harry had tried fixing it three times already, to no avail, so he just left it.

In the field across from them, a withered, dried-out sapling swayed precariously, nearly torn from the ground by the strength of the howling wind.

Hermione stood close to Harry, ready to lend a supporting hand if needed. But Harry felt all right. Just tired. And sore. "So Ron really broke Malfoy's nose?" he asked. Hermione had filled him in a bit more on what had happened after the ward had put him out of commission.

"Yes. That part was pretty bad. A real beating."

Harry thought about the time Malfoy had mashed his own nose, after he'd been caught spying on the Slytherin on the Hogwarts train last year. Smashed it in with the bottom of his shoe, as he recalled.

Harry's sympathy ran somewhat thin, in this case.

"Sounds like he deserved it... Stealing my cloak. Abandoning you guys."

"Oh, believe me, I'm not disagreeing..."

"Wha- is that- _Harry_!" Ron had finally passed the wards and defensive enchantments and Hermione and Harry were now visible to him. He stared with blank shock.

With a crooked smile, Harry gave him a cheery wave and at seeing this, Ron's entire face lit up and he bounded the rest of the way down the hill.

"Bloody _hell_ man! I can't believe it!" He punched Harry solidly in the shoulder after he reached him, laughing. "You are _bloody_ indestructible!"

Harry laughed and gave him one back. "Ow, I may not be dead, but I'm sore as hell mate."

"Aw sorry, thought you could handle it," he gave him another hit, though much lighter then before, smile still spread wide over his face. He was shaking his head, surveying him with a mixture of immense relief and maybe something like awe. "Glad to see you up and around. But it looks like I swiped all these potion ingredients for nothing, huh?" He waved a hand back at his overstuffed rucksack.

"Oh, so you'd rather I still be laid out and dying?" Harry demanded, tongue-in-cheek.

"Sounds about right!" he laughed. "What_ happened_? How are you... y'know... not _dead_?"

There were another few minutes of explanation and celebration before Harry got down to business, redirecting the conversation back to what he'd learned. He quickly filled Ron in on what he had already shared with Hermione about Grindelwald and the Elder Wand. At this point, they had to huddle close together in a small circle to be able to hear each other, the wind was rushing by them so loudly.

"So, then, where _is_ the Elder Wand?" was Ron's immediate question. Straight to the point. "If Grindelwald doesn't have it?"

"I think Dumbledore was the person who had it last. He bested Grindelwald in one of the greatest wizard duel's of all time. And I think that's when Grindelwald lost it."

Hermione and Ron shared a glance.

"So you think... you think it's with him then? Right now? In his-" Ron stopped, shifting uncomfortably, making some sort of an aborted gesture with his hands.

"In his tomb," Harry finished solemnly, "yeah. That's my thought."

"Why are we still here then? Let's go! Let's go get it!"

A loud crack rang out just as Ron finished his excited exclamation. The small, dried-out sapling had finally snapped, it's upper-half spinning away.

"What about Voldemort? Harry if you've figured it out, why hasn't _he_?"

He looked back into Hermione's questioning eyes. She was _still_ skeptical of the whole thing, he could see. "Voldemort's stuck on the idea that Grindelwald's lying. He thinks he can torture it out of him. He's desperate now, he's only got two Horcruxes left... Narcissa's gone as well. He's not thinking straight."

"But Dumbledore wanted us to focus on _Horcruxes_." Her hair was whipping wildly about, and she reached out, pulling strands out of her face and holding it down on her shoulder. She looked concerned at what he was saying. "Voldemort could put two and two together at any second, what if he ambushed us at Hogwarts?"

"So what do you want to do, let Voldemort get his hands on the Elder Wand?" Ron demanded, looking down at her like she was crazy. "If he had the Elder Wand, it won't matter if we manage to get all the Horcruxes! He'd be unstoppable-!"

"Ron's got a point," Harry spoke, interrupting them. He'd originally wanted to debate on it more, having anticipated they would be of opposite opinions about this and he'd hoped they might come up with a better solution then the one he'd come to himself- but he felt time was running short now, and Voldemort was certainly back at Nurmengard prison by this point, continuing his interrogation. Who knew how long Grindelwald might hold out. Who knew how long before Voldemort put the pieces together himself. "But Hermione's right too. Voldemort could come to the same conclusion about where the wand is at any moment."

Ron and Hermione both stared at him as the silence stretched.

"Well, what are you saying then?" Hermione asked, confused, "What do you want to do?"

"Yeah, I don't get it, what are we going after? Horcruxes or the Elder Wand?"

Harry met each of their eyes as he took a deep, steadying breath, hating what he was about to say. "Neither. We... we have to talk to Snape."

* * *

_this chapter is named after the version of the song by Lana Del Rey_


	19. Caught in the Rain

have a crazy work schedule lately, so updates are going to be a little strange i think, jsyk

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

_**Caught in the Rain** _

"We're going to Hogwarts anyway, it makes sense to stop by Dumbledore's tomb, doesn't it?"

"No," Harry said, again. "Can't risk it. Like I said, we Apparate to Hogsmeade, stay hidden, and go straight to Snape. See what he has to say about where the Horcruxes are hidden. About the sacrifice as well."

Ron looked displeased, but he finally dropped the subject of the Elder Wand. He folded his arms, fingers tapping at his biceps anxiously. "Well, I still don't get why you trust Snape all of a sudden, it doesn't make any _sense._"

Hermione nodded vehemently at Ron's comment. "Yes, I'm confused too. I really don't understand this Harry. You're not _telling _us enough-"

"I know. But, you... you just have to trust me. I can't explain it more than that right now. I'm sorry."

Hermione still looked like she wanted to argue and disagree, he'd seen her do the same too many times before not to recognize the signs. But she surprised him, only giving a small sigh before she said, in a very serious tone, "All right then. If you think it's the right decision. I trust you."

He sent a questioning look at Ron, and the taller boy met his eyes for a long moment before shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "Aw man... I guess she's right. If you say so Harry. I can tell you're not changing your mind about it anyway. I trust you too."

As they stood there together, both of them waiting on his next move, Harry felt a blossoming warmth in his chest. It was a mixture of love and a nearly overwhelming feeling of responsibility towards his friends. That they would put _that_ much faith in him, and were ready to follow his lead, only relying on his word alone... it wasn't something he'd ever forget.

"I promise, I'll be able to tell you more later," he told them earnestly. "It's just one of those things."

"One of those things," Ron repeated with a smirk, rolling his eyes with just the smallest bit of exasperation. "Mate, you got a _lot_ of 'one of those things'."

Hermione smiled briefly too, but she was still clearly concerned. "Of course you know we trust _you_ Harry, but what makes you think Snape had the same change of heart you did? He hates you at least as much as you hate him... Well, _hated_ him, I guess. Why do you think he'll even talk to us?"

Harry remembered the last run-in he'd had with the slimy git, the hatred that had flowed through and seemed to reflect back at him through Snape's own bared teeth and flashing eyes... it hadn't been faked. Snape really did loathe him. But he knew Dumbledore had been telling the truth, Snape was on their side, fighting to destroy Voldemort as well. Despite his personal feelings, Harry believed that. Or forced himself to believe that, anyway.

"He'll help us," Harry said eventually, trying to sound more sure about it then he really was. "I know it. Come on, we have to get going."

They followed as he made his way back towards the fluttering tent. Magic was the only thing holding it down at this point, with the wind doing its best to rip it from the ground. "We'll take Godric Gryffindor's sword with us," Harry was saying as he pulled the front flap open.

Inside, Narcissa and Malfoy had taken Ron's radio and put it between themselves on the table. It's dials were flashing and changing and now he could hear Lee Jordan's voice through its little speakers, giving the usual updates on the resistance.

"Ah, so that was the password. 'Gryffindor'. So pedestrian." Malfoy said, looking unimpressed. He glanced up at Harry as he passed, adding nonchalantly, "By the way, good job on not dying Potter."

"Thanks. You're welcome for saving your ass from that alligator, by the way."

This made Malfoy pause uncertainly, and Harry knew Malfoy hadn't expected that response and whatever sarcastic comment he'd been about to say next went unsaid.

Malfoy quickly recovered though, and giving them his back, picked up a pre-dipped quill and started scribbling away. A note for Narcissa, Harry assumed.

She took the paper, smiling at whatever he'd said.

Sitting there together, the two of them radiated a sort of contentment and Harry came to the surprising realization that for them, the war was already halfway over. They didn't have any big, sweeping plans to destroy Voldemort, nor were they focused on making sure Voldemort's plans to conquer the Wizarding World came to fruition. They had each other, and that seemed to be enough.

While Harry was distracted, Hermione had retrieved her beaded bottomless bag and she reached in and produced the sword from its depths.

"How on earth did you get a hold of _that_?" Narcissa spoke up, staring in appreciation at the weapon, its long blade reflecting the light cast by the flames dancing in the fireplace.

"Long story." Hermione lifted it, wrist bending awkwardly at its formidable weight until she caught it with her other hand. "Here," she said to Ron, who was closest.

Ron relieved her of it, holding the sword at his own side. "We ready then?"

"Almost," Harry said, going to his cot and sifting through the messy pile of clothes stacked haphazardly at its end. "I just need to change into something else, been wearing this for two days after all-"

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Ron agreed, twisting the sword around casually, "an invisibility cloak isn't going to do much if a Death Eater can just _smell _his way to where you're hiding."

Hermione did a poor job of suppressing an amused grin, while Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing some clothes without comment and heading to the tiny washroom where he could change in privacy.

Slipping on a dark blue shirt, Harry winced at the sudden flares of pain he felt from using his muscles. His body was still sore and giving him a dull aching feeling from pretty much all over. It was about the same as the near-constant dull ache he had from his scar. Both of them combined was more than a little uncomfortable, and he had a fleeting desire for some of Madam Pomfrey's healing chocolates, but there was nothing for it now.

After he got a new pair of jeans on and as he was about to leave, he caught a look at himself in the small mirror, perched crookedly on the side of the diminutive water basin, and he slowed, pausing to gaze down at the image. He saw his stubble was prominent at this point. More than Ron. Way more than Malfoy, who barely had any. He rubbed at it and momentarily wondered what Ginny would think of this look on him.

It was a weird thought to have at this moment. Such a normal teenage concern, but so... unimportant. His thoughts were always focused on Voldemort. Horcruxes. The war.

Harry pushed up his glasses, unsure how to feel. Thoughts of Ginny rose again, and he felt the familiar worry about her well-being coil inside him, and how he longed to see her, hold her, wondering if she missed him as much as he missed her-

With more than a little difficulty, he stopped himself. He couldn't think about her now. He couldn't. He had to _focus_. If there was one thing that his meeting with Dumbledore had done, it had reminded him how much people were counting on him. Dumbledore, who had given his own life for the cause... No, Harry couldn't let him down.

He closed his eyes, head bowed.

Voldemort.

Horcruxes.

The war.

He played these words again and again in his head. After a few more seconds he felt his thoughts sufficiently cleared, and without another look, he left his reflection behind.

When he returned to the other room, he was surprised to see everyone gathered around Ron's radio at the table. Lee Jordan's voice was speaking urgently now: "-_so it's up to you guys to spread the word! Special Potterwatch __breaking news! __Again__ breaking news, __I repeat__, You__-__Know__-__Who is Taboo, he has now become Taboo_!"

"What's he talking about?" Harry asked, coming up behind them, staring down at the speakers in confusion. "What's that mean 'Voldemort' is Taboo-?"

"NO!" Ron jumped up, so quickly it was like he'd been electrocuted. "You can't say his name!" His face was panicked. All their faces were panicked. "It's jinxed! They can find us now!"

"You idiot!" Malfoy roared.

Outside their tent, Harry heard the tell-tale crack of _Apparition_ and the sneakoscope, which had been laying on its side on the far table suddenly rose, spinning madly, lights flashing.

Now voices filtered in through the wind and whistle of the sneakoscope. From the sound of it, there was a great deal of people out there and Harry's stomach dropped, realizing what he'd done.

"Come out, come out, wherever ya' are..." a gruffer and louder voice from the others called tauntingly, "I'm hungry..."

"That's Fenrir Greyback." Narcissa said, holding Malfoy's arm tightly.

Harry knew she was right, recognizing him immediately. The werewolf who was permitted to wear Death Eater robes in return for his hired savagery. And the voice triggered a flashback of being back at Hogwarts, on the tower after Dumbledore was killed, Fenrir so eager to go back and attack students, to contaminate them, with Bill Weasley's flesh still hanging from his fingernails and bared teeth.

Harry's hand tightened on his wand.

The blood had drained from Hermione's face, so she was very pale as she whispered, "But-but at least our wards are up. They shouldn't know exactly where we are yet."

The wards were a blessing and a curse at the moment. For they could not Apparate out from within, but it was also the only thing preventing the Snatchers and Death Eaters from locating them.

"Why would you do that Potter? Why would you say his name after they _just said_ not to?!" Malfoy demanded, practically in hysterics, on his feet now.

"I-I'd never heard it before, I didn't know what it meant—"

"You couldn't figure it out?! _ Taboo_! What the hell else could it mean?!"

Ron interrupted Malfoy's terrified and angry hissing, asking, "What are we going to _do_?"

"They're going to find us any minute!" Hermione added.

Harry thought quickly and said the only idea that came to him, "We'll have to drop our wards and Apparate. It's the only way."

"Completely exposed like that? No, they'll kill us before we disappear!" Malfoy protested.

"We have to risk it! Or what, you want to stay here and try to fight them instead?"

"No! We'd be good as dead if we tried that- it's suicide!"

"Exactly! So we're not going to fight them. We're going to Apparate- it's the only way," Harry said again. "Come on everyone get together, and Hermione, keep a hand free so you can drop the wards when we're ready."

"You better know what you're doing," Malfoy growled threateningly, turning to help Narcissa to her feet and leading her over to the others.

Harry just ignored him, trying to focus on getting out of this predicament. Looking around the space, he suddenly realized that after they left this time, there would no coming back to their tent. Anything left behind was staying behind. Thankfully, Hermione was over-prepared as usual, and had already collected mostly everything and stored it away in her bag, and Ron was still wearing the rucksack on his back and holding the sword. What was left was nothing terribly important, nothing that couldn't be replaced. Lots of clothes. A few books.

"I'm going to set the tent on fire," he announced.

He felt their shocked gazes turn to him with confusion, except Narcissa. She caught on immediately, and gave an approving nod. "A distraction. Good idea, Potter."

"Hopefully it'll help us for that second or two when we're exposed after the wards are down," Harry said, explaining his idea for the others. "All right, we ready?"

Everyone had gathered together, Harry ended up with Narcissa and Ron on either side of him.

"Where are we Apparating?" Narcissa asked.

Harry hesitated, quickly trying to think of a place where they could safely leave the Malfoy's before continuing their mission to find Snape. He'd originally wanted to have them stay behind in the tent, thinking they'd have been safe on their own, but of course, that idea was shot now.

"Hogsmeade," Hermione answered in the growing silence. "Harry, we don't have time. Volde- _You-Know-Who_ is going to be at Hogwarts any minute now. We have to get there first. They'll just have to come with us."

"_What_? He's going to be at...? Then shouldn't we be doing our best to_ avoid_ going to Hogwarts then?" Malfoy demanded, looking between them as if they were absolutely insane.

"No time," Harry said curtly, deciding Hermione was right. "Focus on Hogsmeade."

"Bugger off Potter! I'm not going to hand deliver myself to the Dark Lord! Tell my mother we'll Apparate somewhere else- somewhere far away from you three!"

Impatience seeping through his very pores, Harry quickly said as much to Narcissa.

"Sounds great! Good riddance Malfoy!" Ron called.

"Ron we can't just send them off on their own-" Hermione started, looking over with concern, eyes mostly focused on Narcissa's pregnant belly.

Narcissa, for her part, ignored the exchange entirely and looked up at her son, who was currently in a staring match with Ron, both sending daggers at the other. "No Draco, we'll stay with them."

Malfoy sputtered indignantly at this, but she continued, saying simply, "Trust me."

He made a frustrated noise, but gave up arguing. Glaring over his mum's head, Malfoy spat at Harry once more: "You better know what you're doing Potter!"

Harry held his wand aloft. He didn't have time to get into another argument with Malfoy or listen to Ron and Hermione debate. Outside, the voices were louder then before. They were drawing closer, clearly on the verge of finding the edge of their shields.

Greyback's husky voice growled loudly, "Ya' ain't gonna be able ta hide much longer!"

He was right. Time was up. Harry pointed his wand at his own cot and took a deep breath before calling out firmly, "_Incendio_!"

The middle of the mattress burst into flame, rising quickly, already burning the bottom of the bunk above. Harry didn't expect it to grow so fast, but it was like the fire was alive and hungry, eating up the blankets and clothes around it at an almost alarming rate.

He turned to the table, multiple scraps of paper littering the tabletop surface, the parchments filled with Malfoy's handwriting. "_Incendio!"_

It didn't take long for the smoke to become thick around them. After letting it burn for another minute, just when he was beginning to have trouble getting a clean breath of air, and squinting from the irritating fumes, Harry finally nodded to Hermione. "Your turn."

She raised her own wand, reciting her incantations.

Harry felt it the exact moment the wards were gone. It was like a cold chill running through him, and he knew they had become visible, defenseless, and vulnerable to attack- at once, he could hear the Snatchers and Death Eaters going crazy outside. The fire had caught the sides of the tent and it was burning up madly as they were arguing about what to do.

"Shoot!"

"At _what_?"

"The tent, you fool!"

"_Stop_! Potter might be in there-"

"I can't hardly see the damn tent anyways, the smoke is too thick-!"

Harry took the hands of Ron and Narcissa, grasping them each firmly, pushing the image of Hogsmeade to the front of his mind and blocking out any other thoughts.

Before the distracted and confused group outside could come together and decide on a plan, Harry and the others were long gone, leaving only a fiery, smoldering tent behind.

* * *

Harry's feet touched the road. He saw the achingly familiar Hogsmeade High Street: dark shop fronts, light spilling from the windows of the Three Broomsticks, the curve in the road ahead that led off toward Hogwarts, and the mist line of mountains beyond the village where the sun was only halfway visible, sky gradually turning heavier shades of blue and orange.

"Don't let go of each other!"

Narcissa's voice was sharp and Harry unconsciously tightened his grip, and he felt Ron do the same on his left. Her words had come just as he'd been about to release them.

They group looked over at her, confused, and Hermione voiced their collective question: "Why?"

"Draco's Dark Mark is the only thing preventing us from setting off their wards. If you break contact, they'll know we're here."

Harry didn't doubt her knowledge. Nodding, he said in a low voice to the others, "All right. You heard her, keep a hold on each other. Let's get off the main road before we're spotted."

It was difficult managing to move all at once as a group, especially once they reached the side-street, and had to get single file to be able to walk efficiently forwards. Harry wished he was in the front so he could urge them all to move a little faster, but he was planted right in the middle and he had no say in their current pace.

"Where are we going?" Malfoy demanded. He was the last in line, forced to follow. "You know they must have guards stationed at the road leading to Hogwarts."

"We're not going that way. We know some secret passages into Hogwarts."

"I knew it!" Malfoy said, triumphant and accusing all at once.

Hermione, the one in the lead, slowed, looking back. "Wait, they'll have those passages guarded as well. They know all the locations."

He was well aware it wasn't the best choice, but at this point, they didn't have time to try and come up with another plan, they'd just have to go with it, adapt to any difficulties and hope for the best. He said, "Then we'll have to fight our way through. Nothing else we can do now. Let's go to Honeydukes."

Ahead, Hermione had reached the end of the street, and she carefully poked her head out from between the buildings, looking from side-to-side. She gave the all clear, and their human chain moved forward.

As they ducked and crouched and jogged their way along the shadowed alleys of Hogsmeade, Harry could tell that Narcissa was having an increasingly hard time with it, breathing hard and starting to slow.

"Hang on, mother," he heard Malfoy say, clearly concerned.

"We're almost there," Harry added, knowing Malfoy's hissing would not be understood and wanting Narcissa to hear the encouragement. "Not much further."

She didn't respond, but he could tell she was pushing herself now, picking up her pace. She seemed to be very determined not to slow them down.

Another few minutes later, and all that was left was to cross the main road, break a window, and then they'd be inside Honeydukes. Of course, that wasn't counting what they were going to do about the Death Eaters they could see lounging around outside, leaning up against the building and talking amongst themselves. Harry counted four of them, but Hermione turned and whispered, "Five. They've got one up on the roof!"

Harry would have to take her word for it. He couldn't see from his current angle.

"There's five of us too," Ron said, "so let's each pick one and we'll take 'em all out at the same time."

"They could have more inside as well," Malfoy said.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Good idea Ron," Harry said, "does everyone have a view on them?"

"But we're going to have to let go of each other to do this," Hermione pointed out, "to be able to hold our wands properly. We'll set off their ward."

Harry opened his mouth, about to reply that it was a necessary risk- when suddenly an overwhelming pain exploded forth from his scar and he cried out, unable to help it. Worse, he felt himself release the hands on either side of him.

A terrible, screeching alarm filled the air around them as Harry stumbled forward, falling to his knees with both hands pressed to his forehead.

"Harry!"

"What's wrong with him?!"

"_T__he Death Eaters spotted us_! Run, run!"

"No, don't run, shoot them!"

Their confused and panicked shouts faded to nothing. A dull hum filled his ears, blocking everything else out before Harry felt his mind being painfully forced into a shared vision with Voldemort. He could do nothing to stop it, it was the only thing he could focus on. The only thing he could see or hear...

A peaceful yet eerie image of Hogwarts grounds opened before him, and Harry realized with an icy shock that Voldemort was walking alongside the grass of the Great Lake. He was alone, long fingers clasped behind his back, appreciating the view of the setting sun reflecting on its serene, still surface.

Finally, he came upon the object of his quest. Beside the lake, mirrored in the dark waters was the white marble tomb that was Albus Dumbledore's final resting place. An unnecessary blot on the familiar landscape. Voldemort felt a rush of controlled euphoria, that heady sense of purpose in destruction.

Suddenly a voice broke through the ominous scene, sounding so far, oceans away, nearly impossible to hear, "Come on Harry!" Ron. Urgency carried through his echoed words: "Wake up! You have to wake up!"

"Drag him over here! Did you see where Draco went?"

"No, _no,_ he and Hermione- we got separated- I have to find her! Stay with Harry!"

"_Wait_!"

The voices were silenced, leaving Harry to refocus, and he could see the tomb split open from head to foot now, rubble collected at Voldemort's feet as he stepped through.

Dumbledore's shrouded figure was as long as thin as it had been in life. Voldemort raised the wand again.

The wrappings fell open. The face was translucent, pale, sunken, yet almost perfectly preserved. They had left his spectacles on the crooked nose: Voldemort felt amused derision. Dumbledore's hands were folded upon his chest, and there it lay, clutched beneath them, buried with him.

Had the old fool imagined that marble or death would protect the wand? Had he thought that the Dark Lord would be scared to violate his tomb? The spiderlike hand swooped and pulled the wand from Dumbledore's grasp, and as he took it, a shower of sparks flew from its tip, sparkling over the corpse of its last owner, ready to serve a new master once again.

Voldemort held the wand high, sure he could feel its power and strength coursing through his own veins, and he tilted his head back and let loose the deep laughter that rose from within. He had done it.

The Elder Wand belonged to him at last.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by October Fall_


	20. I See Fire

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

_**I See Fire**_

The vision of Voldemort's triumph was broken. Shattered. Harry had returned to his own head, his own thoughts and feelings. His scar ached terribly and it seemed hardly fair that even now, though the Horcrux Voldemort had unintentionally created inside of him was destroyed, clearly some sort of a connection between the two remained. Magically intertwined in some way, still.

It was a particularly bitter pill to swallow, to be forced to share Voldemort's exultation at finally possessing the Elder Wand, while at the very same time feeling his own crushing devastation that he hadn't managed to stop him.

But something else was wrong. He couldn't move. He was on his side, and when he tried to roll over, his muscles refused, remaining paralyzed and frustratingly still. The only part of his body that would listen to him were his eyes and with some effort, he managed to peel them apart.

He looked around as best he could, trying to get his bearings and ignore his pulsating scar.

He was in one of Hogsmeade's abandoned pubs, laying on its floor, breathing in the layers of dust that had gathered in the unkempt and disused space. He slowly recognized that he was alone and Harry felt a panic rise in his chest as he darted his eyes about, trying to find some sign of his friends.

Long, torturous minutes passed before the pub's front door burst open and Narcissa Malfoy came through, breathing hard and crouched low as she swung the door almost shut behind her, leaving it open only a crack.

After a few moments she turned, looking over in his direction. Harry met her eyes and she nodded at him. She wasn't who he'd been hoping to see, but he'd take it. "You with me Potter?"

He couldn't do anything except blink, so he did. Rapidly. Letting her know he was awake.

"Good. You're probably confused. After your little vision attack, you were hit with some sort of immobilizing curse. I don't know what it was exactly, and I don't know the counter-spell," she informed him quickly, voice low. "Weasley and I managed to get you in here, to hide, but he took off to find the girl. It was chaos. Spells from all directions. Draco- he didn't want me to be found, he ran off in the middle to distract them- I don't know where he is-" her voice broke and her hands trembled as she turned away, looking back out the door.

Outside, there was shouting. Angry Death Eaters it sounded like, still running up and down the streets, trying to find them.

"It's Potter's little group, I know it is! The Dark Lord needs to be informed!"

"You better be sure about it before you call _him_. You don't want to end up like Rookwood and Macnair, do ya?"

Noises of fervent agreement met this foreboding statement, and from what he could hear, there was no further discussion of contacting their master. Thankfully, they seemed oblivious to how close Voldemort actually was to them, literally only a few miles down the road at Hogwarts, now armed with the Elder Wand itself.

As the Death Eaters continued their search, Narcissa remained leaning against the doorframe, peering carefully through the gap, chewing on her lower lip, knuckles white around her wand. There was an air of barely controlled panic around her. Harry had no doubt she was only thinking of her son.

"Where _are_ you?" she whispered aloud, confirming Harry's thought.

Minutes ticked by. Harry struggled desperately against his own paralyzed muscles, to no avail. It seemed the shouts outside were slowly drawing further and further away, and Harry thought the Death Eaters were probably expanding their search grid. At least that was good news. That probably meant Ron, Hermione and Malfoy still hadn't been found.

"Oi! Over here!"

The roughed-voiced whisper was not someone that Harry recognized, but Narcissa seemed to trust it immediately. At once, she pulled open the pub door and waved. "No, over _here_! Come get the boy!"

The new voice cursed, but not a moment later running footsteps could be heard ringing through the alley outside, before a tall, grey-haired figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by dim light.

Narcissa grabbed the stranger's arm, staring up at him as she asked urgently, "My son, Draco, have you seen-?"

"Yeah, yeah, at the Hog's Head," he pointed, back down the street where he'd come from, "go,_ go_ before they come back this way! I'll get Harry."

With nary a look in his direction, Narcissa bolted, moving as fast as her pregnant belly would allow.

The man didn't waste any time either, coming forward and grabbing Harry's arms, hoisting him up and looping one over his own shoulders. "Damn _foolish_ of you to come here," he was muttering darkly, the tips of Harry's trainers leaving little trails in the dust as he was dragged forward, "don't know what you lot were thinking."

The man shoved the door open with a shoulder and after a brief check either way, he took off in the same direction that Narcissa had gone.

It took Harry a minute, trying to see past the long, stringy, wire-gray beard, but as he was towed alongside the man and lead down the alley, he realized his rescuer was none other than Aberforth. Dumbledore's brother and the barman for Hog's Head Inn and Pub. Harry didn't know much about the man personally, other than his strange love for goats, but, being Dumbledore's relative, he did think he could probably trust him.

Ahead of them, and with immense relief, Harry saw Ron waiting. He held a door open and was beckoning Aberforth forward, trying to get the old man to move faster.

"Get back inside ya' dolt!" Harry's rescuer growled, sounding annoyed. "I've got him."

Ron didn't move though, waiting until Aberforth had reached him before taking one of Harry's arms himself. "We're all here Harry," he told him, and if Harry could have, he'd have sighed with relief at this unexpected news. He didn't know if he'd be able to forgive himself had he caused one of his friends to be captured or killed while he'd been laying there, completely useless, lost in the throes of a vision. "It was a close one, and they put up an anti-Disapparation ward so we're all bloody stuck here now, but at least we made it."

"Dumb luck," the old man grunted. "Take him up there with the others. I'm going to check to see if any Death Eaters are hangin' around outside my place..." adding darkly, "_besides _the one already upstairs of course."

Ron nodded, taking Harry's weight by himself and helping him into the pub. He dragged him behind the counter and through a second doorway, which led to a wooden staircase. The stairs opened into a sitting room with a durable carpet and a small fireplace, above which hung a single large oil painting of a blonde girl who stared out at the room with a kind of a vacant sweetness. Godric Gryffindor's sword was laid out on the table beneath her.

The girl must be Ariana, Harry realized as he gazed up at the painting, remembering his conversation with Dumbledore from before. It seemed fitting that Aberforth would have a portrait of his little sister.

As Ron lugged him all the way into the room, he could see the others waiting inside. Malfoy was at the grimy window, barely sparing him a glance before turning back to the glass, looking out at the street below with the alert stare of someone trying to spot trouble before it spotted him. His mother sat on a chair close to him, hand on her stomach, face tight.

Hermione rushed over, clearly relieved, but also concerned at the way Harry's head and limbs flopped about listlessly. "Maybe I can help..." She held up her wand and closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to recall something. Then she recited a few words, accompanied with a complicated little swoosh and swing. A golden light shot from its end and Harry felt a warmness spread across his body, strength returning to his formerly limp muscles.

In didn't take long before he was able to stand on his own, pulling his hand back from Ron's shoulders. "Everything seems to be in working order," Harry said gratefully, bending and testing his arms.

"Good," she said with a small sigh, "I'd never actually tried that spell before, I've only read about it."

Ron said seriously, "Hermione if there's one person never to doubt whether they can correctly cast a spell, it's you."

"Oh Ron," she said, rolling her eyes. Nevertheless, Harry could tell she was pleased at the compliment.

"Enough of the lovey-dovey sap talk," Malfoy spoke, looking over at them with impatience and an overall air of disgust. "Time to explain what the hell happened back there. What did you see in that vision Potter? Huh? Something big for you to keel over like that and set off the Death Eater's Caterwauling Charm."

Before Harry could answer, Ron said, "What's he saying?" He was glaring back at Malfoy, and Harry thought it was because he didn't like the Slytherin's tone too much.

"Asking about the vision I had. And he's right actually. I did see something big. Voldem-"

"The _Taboo_ Potter!" Narcissa interrupted harshly, with a big dose of impatience. She and her son wore matching faces of annoyance that Harry had almost slipped up once again.

"You-Know-Who," he corrected, "has the Elder Wand. He's at Hogwarts right now."

He was met with shocked expressions as his words sunk in. Disbelief mingled with horror.

Ron, who had visibly paled, was the one to finally break the silence. His voice full of uncertainty, "So... so we're still going to try to find Snape? Or...?"

"No, no it's _over,_" Malfoy said, running a hand over his head, looking shaken. "Find Snape?! Are you people mental? We should get as far away from here as we can! We need to try to escape while we're still able! The Dark Lord, armed with the Elder Wand of all things! No, we should put as much distance between us and them as possible, we don't have_ time_-"

"Calm down," Harry interrupted, getting the impression that Malfoy was gearing up to full-blown panic mode. He was feeling a bit of that himself at the moment, and Malfoy's sudden hysteria wouldn't help matters, so he tried to cut it off before it could start. "We're safe for now, right? The Death Eaters haven't found us. So just- calm down."

"_Calm down?_" Malfoy bristled, ready to start again, but Narcissa put a reassuring hand on his back. His fists clenched, but he stayed silent.

"We're never going to get into Hogwarts now," Hermione spoke quietly, voice bleak. "Now that they know they have intruders, there's no way we'll be able to sneak by them, invisibility cloak or not. It'll be impossible."

They stared at each other, out of ideas, clearly at a loss of what to do next.

"_Wh__ere are they__! Answer me!_"

The earsplitting, shrieking voice made them all jump. It had come from somewhere outside.

Harry ran forward, to the large, grubby window Malfoy had been gazing out of before, trying to get a look at what was happening. The others joined him, crowding around on either side, leaning on the dusty windowsill.

In the glow of a streetlamp just across the road a figure stumbled into view, and with a heavy pit in his stomach, Harry recognized Aberforth. His wand had been stripped from him and the old man was defenseless, forced to back up with his hands spread wide above him.

The witch taunting and pushing him was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, also revealed by the light of the streetlamp. She stepped up close to Aberforth, jamming a wand hard into his throat, and he gagged. "Where- are- they?" she repeated, each word emphasized with another jab.

Aberforth looked the shorter witch straight in her eyes, glasses flashing opaque. "Got no idea. Didn't see nuthin', just heard a terrible racket and went outside to see what all yous were makin' a fuss about."

Bellatrix snorted. "Right. Nice excuse." Keeping her wand shoved against his windpipe, she turned her head, barking over a shoulder, "You lot! Do something useful and go check this man's pub!"

A group of Death Eaters marched past her, disappearing from view beneath the window, but in the next moment Harry could hear the door being forced open downstairs.

"_Hey_! Be careful huh! No need to break my bloody door down!" Aberforth's voice carried loudly from outside, tight and despairing, and Harry knew he was attempting to warn them of the approaching danger as best he could.

With wide-eyes Hermione whispered fervently, "It won't take long for them to find this room!"

Quickly, Harry turned from the window, eyes darting about the area, feeling desperate. Trying to find something that might help. Anything. All he could see was old, rickety furniture though, nothing useful, and Harry felt a real sense of doom come over him.

The portrait of the girl, Ariana, seemed to feel the same thing. As if she didn't want to see their upcoming capture or demise at the Death Eater's hands, she had turned around in the photograph, running away. He saw her slight figure retreating down what looked to be a long tunnel painted behind her, until finally she was swallowed by the darkness.

He turned his attention back to the others. They all held their wands tightly, staring at the door to the room, their faces a mixture of scared determination and despair. Harry could hear the Death Eaters had made it inside the Hog's Head below. They were loud, shouting to each other, and he heard more than one voice bellowing "_Accio_ cloak!" over and over.

Suddenly, there was a loud, sharp, _snap_ sound: the tell-tale crack of Apparition. And it came from directly behind Harry.

Heart pumping madly, he spun, wand pointed, ready to fight.

Eyes falling to the tabletop that had been empty just a moment ago, he saw a creature standing there, about three feet in height. It held a large, dripping, wooden spoon in one hand, bat-like ears flapping as it turned around on the table to face them.

A sock, green in color, stretched across its forehead, tied in the back like a renegade's bandana, while two others covered its feet in sparkling blues and purples. A pink pillow case hung over its torso, spattered and dirtied with what looked to be batter or frosting, topping off the mismatched, rather peculiar look.

For Harry though, in this moment of desperation, it was perhaps, one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen.

"_Dobby_!"

The elf's huge, bulbous eyes focused on him, blinking up at Harry before pure, shocked delight began to alight his features.

"Harry Potter!" he cried, leaping from the table, scampering across the floor to bear-hug Harry's knees in joy, practically knocking him over. Without letting go, the elf looked up at Ron. "And his Wheezy!" he declared happily, pointing with his spoon, and whatever substance had been clinging to it was now smeared across Harry's jeans. A gleeful Dobby remained oblivious, his attention moving to a beaming Hermione. "And the Miss too-!"

The Malfoy's were staring down at their former house-elf in apparent amazement. Narcissa, eyebrows high, spoke in a musing tone, "Of course, of course, elves are immune to our wards... how perfectly useful... But _how_ did you summon him here Potter?"

Finally noticing his past Masters, Dobby faltered at their eye contact, his pointed face losing its smile. Harry felt the little arms clutch even more tightly around his knees. "Don't worry Dobby," he said reassuringly, trying to calm him before meeting Narcissa's questioning gaze. "I didn't summon him. Dobby's a free elf, he goes where he likes."

Dobby seemed to take heart in his words. "Harry Potter is right! Dobby has no master!" squealed the elf with pride. "Dobby is a free elf! And Dobby was _asked_ to come here by the painting!" He pointed his spoon again, indicating Ariana's still empty portrait above the fireplace.

"Yeah alright, very interesting, long live S.P.E.W. and all that, but now's not really the time for this!" Ron cut-in urgently, glancing between them and the door. "We have to get out of here before the Death Eaters catch on!"

Harry looked down at the elf at his feet. "Can you take us to Hogwarts?"

Eyes shining with enthusiasm and excitement, Dobby released him, throwing away his spoon joyously, ignoring how it clattered against the far wall while he proclaimed loudly to the room at large, "Dobby will take Harry Potter anywhere he desires!"

Harry cringed at the volume, making motions for Dobby to quiet down, but it was too late. No doubt alerted by Dobby's shouting, there was a great bang from somewhere below them, and Harry knew the Death Eaters had finally managed to find the hidden staircase that led to the room.

The loud, pounding sound of many feet running up the wooden stairs confirmed it.

"Hogwarts! Take us to Hogwarts!" Harry said quickly, grabbing Dobby's offered hand. In frantic movements, the others came forward and Hermione held Dobby's hand and reached out her other for Narcissa, while Ron and Malfoy each held tightly to the elf's shoulders.

A blasting curse burst open the door to the room, ripping it apart, spraying forth hundreds of wood chips, and Harry turned away but not before his arms and face were cut. "Now Dobby!" he called desperately as he and the others tried to duck and dodge the flying splinters as best they could.

"Dobby is trying, Harry Potter!" he squeaked, eyes screwed shut in concentration. "But Dobby has never tried to Apparate with this many people before!"

In a scene right out of his nightmares, the Death Eaters arrived, pouring into the room one after the other. The one in the lead smiled cruelly, locking eyes with Harry. "_Cruci__o_!"

"_Protego Horribilis_!" Narcissa yelled at the same moment, and a shield erupted in front of Harry, appearing directly between him and the curse that had been aimed at his face. It flashed a dark shade of purple, like a bruise, absorbing the spell.

Another Death Eater stepped forward, aiming at where the shield ended, flicking his wand.

"Watch out!" Hermione cried.

A bright red curse hit the wall directly beside Narcissa's head, who had barely been jerked out of the way by Hermione. It had blasted an impressive hole in the wall's surface, long cracks spreading outward in every direction.

Clearly furious, aiming at the same Death Eater that had almost shot his mother, Malfoy shouted, "_E__XPULSO_!"

The Death Eaters scattered in a panic as the wall behind them exploded in a fiery ball of blue lightning. It spread outward in a powerful shockwave that made the floor tremble dangerously, knocking a few of them down and shattering the window next to them.

Curses and flashes of light came from all the Death Eaters now. Luckily most of them were blocked by Narcissa's shield, but he knew it wouldn't last. They would lose this fight. They couldn't stay here for much longer either, Malfoy's reckless spell had ripped the room's foundation apart and it was unsteady beneath them.

"Dobby, _please_!" Harry urged as the floor abruptly shifted and he nearly lost his footing.

In response, he felt the elf's hand tighten around his own and all at once, a great, immense pressure and sudden feeling of constriction assaulted him... it didn't feel exactly like normal Wizard Apparition. There was something... loose about this. Almost unsteady or faltering compared to the grip of what he usually felt. But Harry didn't care. _Any_ sort of Apparition was good enough for him at this point, and as he saw the Death Eater's faces of rage and fury whirl away into nothingness, a feeling of relief came over him, knowing they would be safe within Hogwarts walls momentarily.

They hit solid ground and he was overcome by the delicious scent of baking bread. Harry fell to his knees, relinquished Dobby's hand, and looked around him.

High ceilings, large banquet tables stacked with piles of food. Gleaming silver pots and pans boiling over with rising smoke, lining the counter-tops on either side of them.

As Harry took it all in, stomach growling loudly, he could see many large, round eyes looking back at him and he realized they had ended up in Hogwarts' kitchens, and that the house elves currently working hard on preparing that night's dinner for the students did not look much pleased about this turn of events at all.

One of the elves turned from whatever she had been stirring, looking down at them from a stool with hands placed on her hips. "Is that Dobby? Oh, Dobby, you always bringing trouble with you, you is!" she chirped accusingly.

"And you left," another spoke up, wiping hands on a tea cozy being used as an apron, "when you is_ supposed_ to be working!"

"It's not right!"

A few of them began whispering to one another, and Harry thought he heard the terms 'slacker' and 'good-for-nothing' being passed along.

"Hey, leave him alone!" Harry said.

Hermione spoke up to defend him as well, indignant, "He's just saved our lives! He rescued us! We would be dead without his help-!"

"_We have to go back_!"

In unison, he and Hermione moved quickly around to see Narcissa. She was panic-stricken and pale, pointing with desperation at the empty spot behind Dobby. "We have to go back!" she screamed again.

Harry, overcome with a sudden sinking sensation, realized the empty space she was indicating was exactly where Ron and Malfoy should be standing... but they were no where to be found.

"He left them behind! The ruddy house elf left my son behind!"

"No!" Hermione cried, hand flying to cover her mouth in horror, "_No_, oh my god-"

Harry felt his stomach flip as he looked down to Dobby, wondering what could have happened. What had gone wrong.

And the elf sat there, wobbling slightly back and forth, clearly having trouble holding himself up as he held tightly to a bloody stump of where his right leg should be. "Dobby... is sorry..." he gasped, little chest rising and falling rapidly, "Dobby's gone and splinched himself Harry Potter sir..."

* * *

_this chapter was named after a song by Ed Sheeran_


	21. Bad Moon Rising

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE **

_**Bad Moon Rising**_

"Get help!" Harry said, though he wasn't even sure who he was talking to, who he was even asking. All he could see was Dobby in front of him, whose eyes were becoming unfocused and clouded while a pool of red grew beneath him.

Harry had his hands pressed over Dobby's own, both holding tightly to the wound, blood leaking out between their fingers at an alarming rate.

"Sorry..." Dobby was still saying. He'd been saying it the whole time, he hadn't stopped. "So sorry..."

"No, no, you saved us, you did great," Harry reassured him.

He slowly became aware of house elves rushing towards them from all directions, their worried chatter barely filtered through his own inner-dialogue and guilt at the situation. No longer did they complain about Dobby's reckless ways, now it was clear how concerned they were. A few of them began trying to pry Harry's hands away and when he realized they were trying to replace them with their own clean towels, he moved away, shifting to give them more space.

They immediately swarmed around Dobby, shouting directions to one another.

"We is gonna' take care of him," one of the house elf's squeaked at him, louder then the rest. Harry wasn't sure which one, there were so many and their voices overlapped.

Then, with a great and resounding _crack, _the entire group of elves disappeared.

The sudden silence echoed loudly in Harry's ears. He was still on his knees and he looked down at his palms, dripping blood onto his lap.

A pot began to boil over somewhere in the room, and Harry finally blinked, broken from his reverie by the noise of the evaporating water hissing and spitting over its sides. In somewhat of a haze he looked up to meet Hermione's shining eyes.

"He'll be fine Harry... You know, elves have amazing magic abilities too, so they'll-they'll mend him, I'm sure."

His mouth felt terribly dry all of sudden. "Yeah."

Hermione took a shaky breath, pulling strands of hair behind her ear, pausing like she wanted to say more, but did not. She gazed at the empty space where Ron and Malfoy should be.

Next to her, Narcissa still sat, eyes closed tightly and her lips pursed in what Harry thought must be anger, but she was quiet as well, saying nothing.

He looked back at his red, sticky hands, still reeling in disbelief. It had been too much to ask of the elf... too much of a load for him to Apparate their entire group successfully.

As he stared, feeling heavy and weighed down by guilt, his scar tingled. It sent a sharp pain through his head, and he winced. But the abrupt pain shook him out of his stupor and he slowly wiped the palms of his hands across his thighs, pushing against them and rising to his feet. A terrible thought suddenly occurred to him. "Do you... do you think it's possible_ they_ were splinched as well?"

Hermione looked over. She seemed to know he was referring to Ron and Malfoy, and she looked deeply anxious at the idea. "Ron can't take another splinching, not again! And he wouldn't have any dittany this time either, we ran out-

"No," Narcissa spoke, interrupting her in a quiet voice, though it was full of certainty. Her eyes remained closed and she still sat on the floor. He noticed she looked even paler than usual. And either his eyes were playing tricks on him, or he could see a fine sheen of sweat appearing across her forehead. "The house-elf would be the only to suffer the consequences of his botched Side-Along Apparition. But they could have ended up anywhere. Or they could still be trapped in that pub with the Death Eaters... Elf magic is unpredictable."

Harry thought back, trying to remember if he had sensed Ron or Malfoy's presence with them as the Apparition had first taken hold, but he had no idea. Too much had been going on and he hadn't paid attention.

"Snape will know!" Hermione said. "He'll know if they've been captured or not! Death Eaters share that sort of information with each other right?"

That sounded quite likely to him. He looked to Narcissa for confirmation.

"Possibly. Or at least, he could find out... We_ must _speak to him as soon as we- " she stopped suddenly, both hands going to her stomach as she sucked a breath in through her teeth. Her face radiated pain. "_Shit__e_."

Harry asked, "Are you all right?"

"It's- it's happening isn't it?" Hermione said, uneasy. "The baby-?"

"Yes," Narcissa gasped, fingers twisting in her robes. "I've been trying to hold it back since Hogsmeade, but I-" she groaned, and it was a terrible sound. "It's coming."

* * *

Hand torn from its hold on the house-elf's shoulder, he was thrown sideways violently. The abrupt force of his sudden ejection from Apparition flipped him through the air, before finally ramming him hard to the ground. He grunted in pain, jarring his own shoulder as he tumbled and rolled. Draco scrabbled madly for purchase, trying to stop himself, but his grasping fingers could not find a hold in the muddy grass he now found himself.

Finally, he came to a sliding stop, on his stomach, facing up a hillside.

Coughing, somewhat disoriented and dizzy, he slowly pulled himself to his knees. Wanted to look for his mother- had she been thrown as well? – but there was a leaf or grass or some other thing caught in his throat, and he was hacking and coughing against the burning sensation, trying to catch his breath.

As he tried to get his breathing under control, he looked back up from where he'd fallen. He could see the path he'd taken, indented clearly in the brush and dirt, only narrowly missing some of the trees that dotted the incline. It had been quite the fall.

Another voice suddenly spoke: "_Damn it_!"

Still coughing, he looked over to see the unwelcome sight of Ron Weasley, who appeared from behind one of the trees. He had that sword grasped in one hand, but the rucksack he'd been wearing was gone, no doubt left behind in all the confusion back at the Hog's Head. His clothes looked as muddied as Draco's and he pulled bits of grass from his hair as he walked towards him.

"Dobby must've dropped us. _D__amn_ it... Is it just _you _then? Haven't seen anyone else?"

Draco didn't even attempt to answer, distracted, coughing still.

"Bollocks..." After a bit of fumbling around he managed to slip the sword's handle through a belt loop and then he cupped his hands around his mouth, hollering up the hill, "_Hermione! Harry!_"

Draco badly wished he wasn't cursed with Parseltongue because he wanted to tell the moron to shut the hell up since there might still be Death Eaters around- but he realized even if he could speak English he wouldn't be able to say anything at the moment. He _really_ could not draw a breath.

He leaned heavily on a hand, using the other to thump his chest, hoping it would knock something loose.

"I don't see any sign of them." A heavy sigh. "What's wrong with _you_ anyway?"

When this failed, both hands went to the ground and he kept hacking. He couldn't feel any obstruction in his airway, but there was that odd burning sensation... and he still could _not_ breathe.

"Hairball?" he heard Weasley suggest unhelpfully.

The edge of Draco's vision was actually starting to gray now from the lack of air.

In a panic, he felt at his pocket, numb fingers grasping for his wand. He pointed it towards his throat, trying to squeeze out a spell- though he wasn't even sure what exactly- but all he could manage was a weird, breathless squeak.

Draco felt his arms and legs losing the strength to hold him up as the sensation of numbness began to spread.

_THWAP_

A great pain exploded from his back.

_THWAP_

He lost his balance. The ground rushed up at him at an amazing speed and Draco's forehead hit it full force.

"Right, take a breath already-"

_THWAP_

Suddenly, air.

Wonderful, _beautiful_, air.

He gulped it down desperately, face still pressed to the dirt as he was finally able to draw some proper breaths and the gray that had begun encroaching his field of vision cleared away, the scenery coming back into blessed focus around him.

Strangely, he hadn't felt anything dislodge or come loose from his airway, but whatever had been preventing his breathing was gone, and really, that was all that mattered to him.

He groaned, lifting himself to his knees, spitting dirt from his mouth.

_THWAP_

He was nearly knocked back to the ground again and Draco turned, just to see Weasley standing over him. The Gryffindor's open hand was hovering threateningly above, poised and ready to deliver yet another painful blow to Draco's back- even though Draco had already _clearly_ recovered.

"Hey!" he wheezed, throwing up his own hand in defense. "Don't fucking try it arsehole!"

A look of complete surprise crossed Weasley's face, but Draco was still more focused on getting his breathing under control that he didn't really register it. The moment passed without notice, and Weasley stepped back.

When he felt better, calmer, the numbness completely gone, Draco grabbed his wand and slowly pulled himself up to his feet. Rolling his aching shoulder, he looked around at the darkening landscape, eyes tracing back up and down the hill, searching desperately for some indication, or any signs of his mother.

It was useless though, and finally he was forced to admit to himself that there was nothing. He and his mother had become separated once again, and it was just he and Weasley who stood there, lit by the twilight sky above in some random forest, on some random hill.

His teeth clenched from resisting the impulse to throw his head back and shout in frustration. How had it all gone so badly so fast? It had been _over_! They had finally both been away from Voldemort! And now his mother was gone. And he had no idea how he was going to find her this time. He had no idea where he and Weasley even _were_ now- had no idea if his mother had safely made it into Hogwarts walls or if the damned elf had abandoned her somewhere else as well.

Everything had been truly and royally buggered.

"Oh no,"

Broken from his depressed thoughts, Draco glanced over and saw that Weasley had suddenly started to pat himself down, feeling at all his pockets, turning them inside out as he apparently searched for something. "Oh, no, _no_..."

Draco watched him, still lost in his own swirling anger and disappointment, not really caring about whatever Weasley was doing. But there was nothing else to focus on.

Weasley held his wand aloft. "_Lumos_!" He started to wander away, keeping his eyes down on the ground, retracing his steps. "Don't tell me I lost it!" And he continued to mutter concernedly to himself, bent at the waist, peering down at the ground around him as he walked.

He was looking to the left when the light from his wand suddenly caught a small object on his right and Draco saw a flat metal something reflect in the darkness, flashing for a moment before an unaware Weasley kept moving along up the hill, following his path back behind some trees.

Doubting that Weasley could possibly have anything worthy of his interest, but vaguely curious, Draco walked forward and snatched the little piece of metal from where it was settled in the grass. He turned it over in his hands.

An old, tarnished cigarette lighter. He flipped open its lid and flipped it closed again. Useless. Nothing special.

"You found it?"

Weasley had returned, and his face lit up at the sight of the small lighter clasped in Draco's hand.

"Give it here,"

Draco squeezed his fingers around it, feeling a sudden urge to toss it far away- Weasley's apparent happiness over the stupid thing being the fuel for this urge- but when the taller boy rushed forward, Draco decided he didn't care enough and he held the lighter out, allowing him to take it. A family heirloom most likely, and from the way Weasley was acting, an item his destitute family couldn't afford to lose. No surprise there.

"Please please _please_ don't be broken," Weasley was saying quietly, flicking the lid open with his thumb before pressing down on the small button that Draco hadn't bothered with.

Suddenly a brilliant little light appeared, hovering in the air above Weasley. It cast a bluish, silver glow over him, like a single candle.

Weasley gave a relieved smile. "Thank Merlin, it still works. Thought I broke it in the fall-"

"_Ron can't take another splinching, not again...__"_

Draco whipped his head around at the unexpected, female voice. It seemed to come from nowhere. "What the...?"

But it was still only Weasley standing there, staring down at his device in amazement, then back up at the light again. "That- that was _Hermione_! That was her voice!" he exclaimed. He lifted the silver device high in the air in a motion of triumph. "It came from the deluminator!"

"_N__o. __The house-elf would be the only __one__ to suffer the consequences of__-_"

"That's my mother!" Draco breathed, shocked, staring up at the ball of light now too. She'd sounded tired and despairing, but it had definitely been her.

The silver light from the 'deluminator', as he called it, suddenly whirled in a little circle and then rushed at Weasley, actually disappearing into his chest.

"What _is_ that thing?" Draco said aloud, his mother's voice echoing in his ears.

Suddenly the light reappeared, pulling itself back out of Weasley, illuminating his amazed face before rushing further up the hill.

It sat still, hovering some yards away from them.

"We're to follow it!" Weasley said, eyes lit with excitement. "I can _feel_ it! It's going to lead us to the others!"

Draco rushed to catch up to Weasley then, slipping on the grass in his haste, because the Gryffindor had started after the light without hesitation, so caught up in his apparent glee.

As he got his footing back and ran along behind him, he noticed whenever Weasley reached the hovering ball that the light then zoomed along ahead of him, hovering again. Clearly waiting for him to reach it once more.

Weasley was moving quickly, practically sprinting up the hill and Draco wasn't far behind now, closing the gap between them. "We're going to find them!" Weasley called confidently as the light moved again and again, showing the way.

Finally they made it to the crest of the hill, Draco matching Weasley's pace as they both stepped onto the flat earth at its top, and now he finally had a clear view of where they'd been dropped by that utterly useless house elf.

He could see the little town of Hogsmeade in the distance. He recognized the place immediately; the buildings were pumping smoke from chimneys, the numerous, tiny flickering lights throughout the village, only barely visible from this distance and the miles of forest that separated them. Draco thought they had quite a trek ahead of them.

But when he looked back at the deluminator's light for guidance, he noticed that the light wasn't heading for Hogsmeade. In fact, it had veered off in a completely different direction.

Beaming confidence, Weasley had started after it again, and Draco only hesitated a moment before following.

* * *

Footsteps rang through the hallway and Harry barely had time to squeeze into an alcove behind a suit of armor before a group of students appeared. First-years from the look of them, holding books close to their chests over blue and bronze striped ties as they hurried along. Ravenclaws.

They were distracted, talking amongst each other, which is exactly what Harry needed because he'd given Hermione and Narcissa his invisibility cloak so they could reach the hospital wing undetected. He was visible to all, relying only on quick reflexes and his knowledge of secret passages as he ran through Hogwarts, trying to locate Snape by himself.

Of course, Hermione had tried to fight him on his plan at first, incensed that Harry thought he'd go it alone, wanting to join him. As they stood arguing in the kitchen, the few house-elf's that had remained behind to finish cooking had glanced over nervously- but they weren't watching their argument, they were looking at Narcissa. She'd gotten to her feet but leaned heavily against the walls, seeming to wilt in front of their eyes, her face impossibly pale.

He'd finally just shoved the cloak into Hermione's hands, ignoring her protests.

"No, you need to take the cloak at least Harry!" she'd insisted, trying to give it back.

"You two need it more."

"Harry-" she looked at him desperately, but when she met his eyes, the fight went out of her. She could tell that he wouldn't budge. He was going to find Snape without her. Try to, at least.

And so Harry was alone, desperately trying to avoid been seen by a group of first-year Ravenclaws.

"Can you believe that assignment?" One of the group spoke up, a girl, sounding highly offended, "A bloody two page essay on how to properly set an Imperius? It's not right! I'm not going to do it!"

"Quiet down!" another girl hissed back, looking around quickly. Her gaze went by where Harry hid, but she didn't see him. "I think I saw Filch lurking around this hallway earlier... he won't hesitate to send us to the Carrows!"

"Ingrid's right, you have to lower your voice!" a dark-skinned boy spoke, eyes wide.

"I can't stand it though!" the first girl insisted. "This isn't the same Hogwarts my parents told me about! It's not fair, we're not- we're not _Slytherins_! We shouldn't have to take a Dark Arts class, or spend hours in the library studying these horrid spells-"

"_Shhh_!" the boy interrupted, glancing over his shoulder worriedly. "At least wait until we get to the common room!"

The group passed, still arguing. Harry remained frozen, unmoving, until finally they started to descend the flight of stairs at the end of the hall, disappearing from view.

When he felt they were really gone, he slid out of the alcove but stayed close to the wall, nearly pressed against it as he resumed his jog down the hallway. Only a few more corridors left before he reached the Headmaster's office. It was the only place he could think were Snape might be.

Harry noticed a few portrait's glance curiously at him as he made his way past. He had his face turned towards the opposite wall though, sort of shadowed by it, and he hoped it was enough to avoid being recognized by them. The last thing he needed was a portrait running through Hogwarts, excitedly announcing the return of Harry Potter to everyone they happened to spot wandering the halls.

As he slipped down a hidden stair-well that he knew would lead him the right direction once it finished rotating towards the opposite wall, Harry thought about the disturbing conversation he'd overhead. First-years being taught how to cast an Unforgivable. He was thoroughly disgusted. Had things really deteriorated this much, so fast? Dumbledore said he'd left Hogwarts in Snape's hands with full confidence, but look at what had happened... and Harry was supposed to trust him?

He felt the familiar anger begin to burn in his chest as he stepped into the seventh-floor corridor. Empty, save for the familiar stone gargoyle that he knew hid the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

Harry walked towards it, gazing at the statue's bared fangs as he wondered what the password might be. What Snape might have chosen. "Dumbledore?" he tried doubtfully. "Albus Dumbledore?"

The statue remained unmoved. Apparently it wouldn't be so easy.

"Salazar Slytherin?" Harry tried to think of anything that related to Snape. "Potions? Dungeons? Two-faced bastard?"

Nothing. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, stumped. He hadn't really given much thought to this part. Minutes passed as he stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping, trying to think, but he was drawing blanks on this. He was completely unable to put himself in Snape's head or try to see things from his perspective enough to guess what password the man might have chosen.

Right when he was about ready to throw all caution to the wind and was seriously considering casting a Sonorous charm, he was broken from his desperate thoughts by a rather strange sight. A cat suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the hall and it quickly made its way towards him on silent little paws.

He stared at it, uncomprehending. Then, he remembered. Mrs. Norris. And that must mean...

"-see what the Headmaster has to say about this! You're done for this time! You're _gone_!"

Harry spun on his feet, running as fast as he could to the opposite door, pulling it open.

"Hiding away in the walls! Skipping classes! Cursing other students-!"

He ducked into the room- a long abandoned classroom- catching the door before it could shut completely behind him, holding it open just the tiniest of cracks.

"The list goes on and on!"

Harry learned close, peering out the gap. He saw a limping, scraggly haired figure come into view- Filch, of course. Never far from his pet cat. He held the arm of a taller figure who wore student robes, seeming to allow himself to be towed along. It took a moment of studying the cut, bruised face surrounded by unkempt and overgrown hair, but with a shock, he realized he was looking at none other than Neville Longbottom.

"I've only cursed Slytherins who somehow got it into their head that it's okay to attack anyone who defends Muggles," Neville was saying. He was a picture of calm. "And I'll tell Snape that to his face. I don't care."

Filch sneered while Mrs. Norris curled in and out of his legs. "He's _Headmaster _Snape to you. And we'll see how much _you don't care_ when you're getting expelled now won't we?"

Neville didn't appear impressed by the threats. As they approached the gargoyle, he stayed quiet and unresisting.

Filch barked some Latin words Harry didn't recognize: "_L__ilium __flos_!"

The gargoyle leapt to the side, the wall behind splitting in two to reveal a spiraling stone staircase beyond, and Harry knew, even given a million years to try, he never would have guessed that password.

"Go on then!" Filch ordered, shoving Neville forward.

At this point, Harry pushed open the door he was hiding behind. Neville didn't really need saving it seemed, but Harry didn't want Filch getting in his way.

"_Stupefy_!"

The old man didn't have time to react, the spell hit him in the side and he collapsed against the wall, promptly sliding down onto his arse. His cat yowled in alarm, back arched, before taking off and disappearing around the corner.

Neville looked over, his utter bemusement quickly turning to shock as he stared at Harry. There was a long beat of silence as he looked him up and down.

"Alright Neville?" he said in greeting.

"_Harry_!" he finally yelled, looking overjoyed. He jumped forward and embraced him with unbridled excitement. "I knew you'd come! I knew it!"

Harry returned the hug, noting Neville's swollen eye and cheekbone, his ripped and tattered robes... he definitely looked worse for wear. Nevertheless, his battered visage shone with happiness as he let go of him. "I _knew_ you'd come!" he said again, "Kept telling Seamus it was only a matter of time!" He laughed, suddenly looking about. "Ron and Hermione with you?"

He felt his stomach twist at the mention of Ron, but he kept it from his face. Focus, focus. Couldn't do anything about it just yet. "No, Ron's missing and Hermione's down in the hospital wing with Narcissa Malfoy."

This stifled Neville's excitement. His face turned more serious. "Damn. We heard the Death Eaters lost her on Potterwatch... never would have guessed she was with you. But I _knew_ you weren't just in hiding- I knew you've been out trying to fight You-Know-Who!" He pumped a fist. "And we have been too, us at Hogwarts- Dumbledore's Army is still up and running!"

"That's fantastic, really great," Harry said, and really, he _was_ glad to hear it, and he wanted to ask for more information, wanted to know why he looked so battle-weary, what all had been happening at Hogwarts... but he couldn't worry about that stuff now. He desperately needed to talk to Snape about about what might have happened to Ron and Malfoy, along with finding the last two Horcruxes, and not to mention what to do now that Narcissa was probably about to give birth...

Dumbledore had promised Snape would help them, and at the moment, it really felt like his last hope for all these mounting problems.

"Well I'm really sorry, but I can't stay and talk, I have to get going-"

Neville, who at first only appeared somewhat disappointed by Harry's lack of interest, now looked a bit more wounded and confused. "But... we can _help_. Me and the others, we're ready for you, just- just tell me, what do you need?"

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that question. He had no idea what he needed- or rather, he needed so much, he didn't even know where to start. And he really couldn't believe he was here expecting _Snape_, of all people, to point him in the right direction.

Neville stared back in the silence though, and he looked practically ready to burst with his willingness to help.

Harry hesitated, unsure of exactly what to share with him. What to say, or what to keep secret.

"What are you two doing out of class?"

Harry and Neville jumped, spinning around to face the open doorway. A black-cloaked figure strode slowly towards them, out of the shadows of the staircase leading up to the Headmaster's Office. The light from candlesticks at the doorway touched on him and it was then that Severus Snape was fully revealed, his scowling countenance staring down at them from above his hooked nose.

White-hot anger ran through his veins upon seeing the familiar face and Harry couldn't help how he suddenly lifted his wand, glaring with a set jaw that literally ached to curse him. The Cruciatus Curse jumped to the front of his mind, and he had no doubt he could perform it successfully now.

Snape's eyes went from Neville, over to Harry and raked across the scar on his forehead before shocked recognition filled his expression. In a blur, he too, lifted his wand.

Hatred filled his voice: "Potter-"

"Snape-"

They glared at one another, lightning practically crackling in the air between them. But, tellingly, neither made any offensive moves.

Neville had his wand out as well, looking back and forth. "Harry...?" he said uncertainly.

He could feel Snape performing Leglimency now- invading his mind as the intense, fathomless black eyes bore into Harry's own before the image of Snape's face with a bewildered Neville in the peripheral faded to nothing.

Now all he could see were pictures of memories rushing by, one by one as Snape perused them quickly... he remembered nearly drowning, choking against the locket chain, pulled impossibly tight against his throat... then Ron splayed out on the rocks while Hermione desperately breathed air into his lungs... finding Malfoy trembling in the rain, the Dark Mark vivid against his skin...

He realized Snape was trying to find out what Harry knew, _why_ he was in Hogwarts and not out searching for the last Horcruxes. The memories of his journey so far continued to rush by, one after the other until Snape reached the pivotal moment where Harry had struck the Death Eater ward, and it was like he was experiencing it all over again. The pain as green lightning coursed through him- overwhelming, terrible, burning- Harry didn't know if he could stand it again- then, abruptly, the visions stopped.

There was only a deep black _nothing_.

He could feel Snape's confusion through their mental link, before Dumbledore's words were suddenly heard, floating unbidden to the top of his thoughts: _"__I do know someone who would be able to help, if you choose to ask them. O__ne person who__m__ might actually have answers for you, that you can trust implicitly __and wholly__."_

Blank shock shot from Snape into Harry.

Finally, the heavy, _wrong_, feeling of Snape in his thoughts lifted and Harry felt he could breathe a little easier.

Snape was staring at him, looking more agitated then Harry had ever seen, almost thunderstruck.

His hand gave a tremor of resistance, but when he finally focused he was able to lower the wand. Not all the way, but he pointed its end down at least. "He has the Elder Wand," Harry said at last, trying to keep his voice level and calm. Having just heard Dumbledore's assuring voice helped him with this, but it was not easy.

Snape continued to stare without saying anything. Harry couldn't begin to guess what the man was thinking.

Suddenly Snape broke the eye-contact. He seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion in his own thoughts and he turned smartly on his heel, retreating back up the steps to his office. "Come! _Now_!"

He moved to follow.

"Wait- Harry!"

He stopped in surprise, looking back at Neville. He'd nearly forgotten about him.

"What's going on? I mean, what's this business about an Elder Wand?"

"I'm sorry, there isn't time- please, just watch this hallway for me. Don't let any one up here all right?"

Without waiting for an answer, he left Neville there in his confusion, turning to jog up the stairs after Snape.

* * *

Draco wasn't doing well.

He and Weasley had been led down into a cave. It was a winding and confusing trip with many turns down many different tunnels and though at first he'd tried to memorize the path they were taking in case this 'deluminator' light somehow failed and they needed to find their way back, it was hopeless. They'd left any chance of that behind long ago. There was no turning back at this point.

He swallowed, palm sweaty around his illuminated wand. Weasley had his out as well, a few paces ahead as they both walked toward the bobbing, silvery-blue light of the deluminator, almost completely swallowed by the heavy darkness that surrounded it. As they neared, it once again vanished and reappeared further down the tunnel.

And while the darkness was bad, Draco could stand it. With their three lights combined, he felt alright about that... No, rather, it was the claustrophobia getting to him now. The tight cave walls on either side. As they progressed, he could see they were getting closer and closer, their path smaller and smaller. Or maybe it just felt like that. He wasn't sure.

Either way, he was thoroughly unnerved. And he'd started chattering inanely, almost without his control, "Can't be much further, been walking for ages already haven't we? Feels like ages, anyway... Must be close. Have to be close. A good distance for sure."

Weasley glanced back, eyebrows furrowed.

Draco didn't acknowledge him, avoiding his questioning gaze. Perhaps the Parseltongue was doing a poor job of hiding his anxious tone, but there was nothing to be done for it. The talking helped to calm him, which he desperately needed. _A__nything_ to help him not focus on the encroaching walls looming on either side.

The shadows cast from their _lumos_ charms seemed to highlight all the ridges and bumps of the cave around them, somehow making it seem even smaller and he averted his eyes, staring down at his feet instead, trying to quell the rising panic.

He just wasn't used to tight spaces like this. The Malfoy Manor had huge, sprawling hallways that even if he stood in the center with hands outstretched he would not reach them. Same for Hogwarts. _That_ was what he was used to.

Trying to distract himself, he switched his wand to the other hand, wiping his palm off on the front of the faded black shirt he wore, which was so thin and old he could feel the sweat soaking through to his chest.

"What's a deluminator anyway?" he wondered aloud, voice a bit frantic in his desperation to think of anything else. Anything besides this terrible feeling of claustrophobia. "Never heard of it before. Not something I've seen in Diagon Alley either... or Knockturn for that matter-"

Weasley's voice suddenly broke into his babbling, "Didn't get it from a shop. Dumbledore left it to me in his will."

"Oh. Wait-" Draco looked up sharply, full of confusion. How on earth had Weasley so correctly guessed what he was saying?

"Did I forget to tell you?" The other boy glanced back at him, and Draco was just able to make out a lopsided smirk in the dim lighting. "Yeah, you've been speaking this weird English-Parseltongue mixture ever since you almost choked to death back there."

"_What_?"

Weasley was deadpan in his delivery: "Surprise."

Draco struggled to recover from his shock, forcing himself to keep moving. "What the hell does that mean?" he finally demanded, catching up to Weasley. "English-Parseltongue mixture?"

"Nope, that was all Parseltongue right there," Weasley said. "Not a lick of English."

Draco ran a hand over his head in frustration. "So, what about now?"

"What about now?" Weasley repeated. "Got that part. English."

He didn't know what to say. So he scoffed and said nothing. They both fell into silence after. He refused to allow himself to keep muttering inanely now that he knew Weasley could partially understand him, so the only sounds was their shoes scuffing against the rock floor as they walked and the quiet repetitive swishing of the flat side of the sword against Weasley's jeans.

Draco thought he should probably be somewhat pleased by this development, but instead, there was a sudden feeling of frustration rearing up inside of him. He had no control over his own body anymore it seemed. The scars, and the runes, the Parseltongue... he felt almost powerless.

Still, though... it _had_ to be a good sign. The Dark Lord had loosened his grip over Draco even more. Perhaps the Parseltongue would even be gone completely by the time they reached wherever this damn deluminator was leading them.

As he thought about the deluminator, he glanced up to get a look at the bobbing blue light- but he pulled up short.

Only darkness lay ahead; the little light was no where to be found.

He gaped, standing still. Frozen in shock. "Where is it?"

"What-?"

He exploded in movement and grabbed a handful of the confused Weasley's shirt, at his shoulder, forcibly shaking him as he pointed at the empty blackness in front of them. "The light! Where's the light? _Where_?"

"Get off me!" Weasley said, rearing away from him, pulling himself free of Draco's grip. But his face was full of anxiety as he too, stared ahead at nothing. "I-I don't know!"

Horror filled him. The walls seemed to loom towards him tauntingly. "What do you mean _you don't know_!"

"Just shut up for a minute! I'm sure it's still there alright?" He put a hand to his chest, above his heart where the deluminator's light had gone inside of him back when it had first appeared and spoken in Granger's voice. Weasley's face was softer suddenly. "Yeah, it's still ahead of us, I can_ feel _it, right here-"

"Fuck's sake Weasley," he interrupted with a grimace, "spare me the sentimentals! I don't care about what you _feel!"_

Weasley glared, hand dropping, and even in the shadows Draco was able to see the blush suddenly burning at his cheeks as he set his jaw angrily. "I'll tell you about how I feel all I want! It's _my_ deluminator that's helping us find the others, isn't it?"

"Yeah, real useful at the moment!" he said sarcastically, waving a demonstrative hand at the darkness. "We're bloody _stranded _here!"

Weasley shoved past Draco. "No! You're wrong! It'll be up here somewhere. It must have gone down another passage that we can't see or something!"

The red-head held his wand high as he stomped forward, but it wasn't long before he had to stop, its tip illuminating a dead end. There was simply no where to go.

Seeing this made Draco feel nauseous, almost light-headed, and he reached out, putting a hand on the curved wall next to him for support. "We're goners," he groaned. "We'll never find a way out of here..."

Weasley, on the other hand, did not seem deterred. He got up close to the wall and started feeling at it carefully, touching at all the dips and rivets, as if it might be a secret passage and he just needed to find the right spot to activate it.

"This isn't Diagon Alley!" Draco bit-out an angry reminder.

"Parseltongue," Weasley called back over a shoulder in irritation. He continued his searching, reaching high, left to right, before working his way downward. "There must be something we're missing!"

Weasley was crouching now, reaching lower and lower. Draco wiped the nervous sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, watching in silence.

Suddenly, Weasley gave an excited shout.

Draco noticed that Weasley's hand had disappeared through some sort of crack in the wall. He quickly moved to a different position, actually laying down on his stomach, trying to peer through. "It's there!" he exclaimed, relief evident in his voice, face still pressed to the stone, "I can see the light!" Then without hesitation, Weasley pulled back and pointed his wand at the tiny opening.

Draco saw this and felt a panic rise within. "Wait-"

"_Bombarda_!"

There was a bright flash of orange and an explosion. The cave walls shook around them, the sound reverberating thunderously. Draco stumbled, ducking and covering his head as rubble and rocks rained down from the ceiling above.

Thankfully the trembles died down, and Draco was able to right himself. His heart was beating madly, and he took a moment to catch his breath. Dust motes floated around him and he coughed, waving a hand to clear the air as he looked about.

The spell had caused major cracks to appear along the walls on either side, giving it a fragile, shaky look, and he felt if he even breathed too hard they might just collapse.

He slowly reverted his gaze back to Weasley, who was nursing an arm and looked a bit worse for wear. There were scorch marks along the edge of his face and hairline. "Maybe-" he coughed, looking somewhat sheepish, dust flying everywhere as he shook out his hair. "Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to do."

"Really?" Draco asked, dripping acid in his tone. "I'd say that was Gryffindor subtlety at its best."

"Sod off Malfoy," he grumbled, snatching his wand up from where he'd dropped it. "_Lumos_. I just admitted it wasn't the best idea, didn't I?"

"An understatement," Draco said, a sneer pulling at his lip as he gazed down at him, "you nearly killed us both!"

With a roll of the eyes, Weasley turned away, back to inspecting the wall. The hole itself was somewhat larger now, crumbling around the edges as he poked at it. Still, Draco could see it was much too small for a person to squeeze through and he supposed he'd better get involved in this if he didn't want to end up crushed under a ton of rubble brought down on his head by the sheer thoughtlessness and stupidity of a typical Gryffindor.

"Shove over," he growled, coming forward.

Weasley glanced back at him quizzically, and Draco assumed he must have spoken in Parseltongue. But Weasley apparently understood anyway, because he eventually shifted to the side to make room.

Draco crouched down. "Let's try something a bit more sophisticated then an_ explosion,_ shall we?" He gazed at the wall, going through a few different ideas in his mind, before touching his wand carefully against it, just a few inches above the opening. "_Reducio_."

A good-sized patch of the wall crumpled inward on itself, again and again, becoming smaller and more compact until all that was left was only a small pebble. It detached itself and fell towards the ground and Draco caught it in his palm.

He plucked it up with his other hand, holding it between his forefinger and thumb, directly in front of Weasley's face.

"Now, is that too advanced a spell for you, or...?" He smirked at the other boy's annoyed scowl, knowing he'd been understood.

Weasley reached up, backhanding the little rock out of Draco's grasp.

"Parseltongue improved your personality, you know that?"

* * *

_this one's named after a song by Creedence Clearwater Revival_

_Sorry for the break between updates. I hope the length of the chapter makes up for it. Longest one yet. Thanks for reading/reviewing!_


	22. Demons

Sorry about the delay. Don't worry, I fully intend to finish this thing.

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO **

_**Demons**_

For Severus Snape, it felt an eternally long time that he sat in silence, mouth set in a firm line, listening as the boy across from him rambled on about all the difficulties he'd made for himself thus far.

Of course, Potter directed the majority of this self-pity to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore that hung from the wall above him, who looked on with some level of concern, directing the conversation in his usual way that most wouldn't notice if they weren't looking for it. Yes, even now it was easy to see just how much influence the late Dumbledore held over the boy.

Snape kept his own expression passive though, hands templed on the desk, poised above the Hawthorn wand originally belonging to Draco Malfoy. He'd been using it ever since Potter had snapped his own so many months ago. Currently, it was pointed towards Potter's chest. Potter too, kept his own wand trained on Snape.

He still didn't completely understand that memory he'd plucked from Potter's mind. He'd never run into anything quite like that before, never _heard_ of anything quite like it, not in all his years of Legilimency practice and study. The only conclusion he could come to, if Potter was telling the truth (and for once Snape believed he was), was that Albus Dumbledore- the _real_ Albus Dumbledore- must have performed some very advanced magic to somehow pass a message along to Potter in the eventuality of his death.

And apparently, that message was for Potter to trust Snape.

He clenched his jaw tightly, but otherwise, he kept the tumultuous emotions from his face.

From the grave, Dumbledore had essentially blown his cover. Now, if Potter was to get within a hundred yards of Voldemort, Snape was doomed. Potter _trusted_ him. Hated him, too. But that trust was there... he'd felt it, shining like a candle's light through all the anger and hurt surrounding it, and it was this very trust that would surely get Snape killed. Voldemort was no slouch when it came to Legilimency, while Potter was a pitiful example of an Occlumence. If Snape had felt it, the Dark Lord would as well.

Why had Dumbledore done this to him? What was he expected to do now?

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath through his nose in an effort to calm himself. To focus. To formulate a new plan. Quickly.

_Well_, Snape thought somewhat dispassionately, _if there was one thing he excelled at thanks to the late Albus Dumbledore, it was adapting to challenging circumstances_.

"Enough!" Snape finally spoke, cutting off Potter, raising a hand against the onslaught of explanations and stories thus far. "I've had my fill of your ranting and raving. Seems you've landed yourself in quite the quandary and now you need someone to come bail you out. Pity it's down to me, isn't it?"

Dumbledore's image looked over, clearly surprised at his harsh choice of words. He said in a chastening manner of tone, "Severus, there's no need to make light of this current situation."

Potter stared at him as well, irritation crossed his features, mouth set in a hard frown. "Believe me I don't like this any more than you do-"

"On the contrary, I suspect you rather enjoy it," Snape replied lightly. His mind wasn't really focused on the conversation though, rather, his thoughts were on the remaining Horcruxes and rapidly trying to determine their possible whereabouts- but poking holes in Potter's bloated ego was second nature to him and he fell back into it easily. "Pawning off all the responsibility on other, more competent people when things get rough... Par for the course for you, isn't it?"

Potter tensed, muscles tightening visibly on his arms and neck. "You're going to do this _now_? Really? I came to you because Dumbledore _told me_ I should- that's it! Am I wasting my time here?"

He could sense all the emotions swirling around in the boy. He found himself slightly surprised at how similar their feelings actually were at the current moment: constricting anxiety, burning anger, exhaustion, barely controlled fear...

He glanced away, breaking eye contact to end the Leglimency.

Suddenly, Potter rose to his feet, slamming a fist to the desk. The sound cut sharply through the room and a crack webbed its way out from underneath his hand.

Snape sat back in his chair, looking up with a quirked eyebrow.

"_C__an you help or not_? He has the Elder Wand. He has it_ right now_, you get that? Two Horcruxes are still hidden away, Ron is missing, Narcissa is probably having that baby and I don't have _time_ to be sitting here in this office being insulted by you as if we're in Potions class or something-!"

A feeling of ice ran up his spine. "_What_?" He straightened, Potter's words replaying in his head as he stared. "Narcissa is in labor?" That wasn't supposed to happen yet. "_Where_?"

"I _told_ you, you really haven't been listening have you? Hermione took her down to Pomfrey's-"

Snape's grip tightened on his wand and he pushed from his chair, rushing around the desk.

Potter was startled by the sudden move and he backed up, but Snape reached forward, grabbing his arm as he focused his mind.

"The _Horcruxes, _Severus," Dumbledore said from behind him, the words heavy with intent.

He looked back. Briefly met the painted eyes, a flat color of blue above a stern mouth. Clearly, the portrait was not pleased with this sudden development.

Snape said, "Oh, I haven't forgotten."

Apparition took hold as the former and current Headmaster's stared each other down. Then he and Potter twirled and disappeared from the office with a muted _crack_.

* * *

A sudden rush of cold wind blew past, cutting through the stale, musty atmosphere of the cave that Draco had grown used to in their hours wandering through it. At first Draco actually didn't know what to make of the burst of fresh air, only looking up with mild confusion. He was distracted, tired and thirsty, lost in thought, when his gaze fell upon what could only be a small patch of moonlight.

It shone brightly through the twisting tunnel ahead.

His mood changed at once, relief overcoming every other emotion he had. Finally, _light! _Real light. "Thank Merlin!" he breathed, picking up his pace.

Next to him, Weasley broke out in a grin and suddenly straightened from his slouched walk, hurrying along.

Turning the last corner, they were suddenly bathed in the pale moonlight. Strong winds howled, tunneling down the cave in a rush of air, and Draco's shirt fluttered against his chest as he stood still, closing his eyes just briefly. It felt amazing. _Finally_. They had actually made it to the end of that horrible claustrophobia and darkness.

"We can't be far from the others now!" Weasley said, sounding quite merry as they started off again. He ducked his head to avoid the rock outcrop above as he left the cave and Draco followed along right behind, sans the ducking.

The deluminator light had reappeared in the distance, the glowing ball floating ahead amongst the tightly clustered trees they found themselves surrounded by. There was an obstructed view of the sky above, stars sparkling brilliantly through little gaps in the thick canopy of leaves.

"Wonder where it's led us?" Weasley said, which was exactly what Draco himself was thinking as he looked about, taking in the scenery. The forest was dense, casting heavy shadows as they started off, their trainers crunching fallen twigs and decaying leaves beneath them.

They held their wands out, both opting to cast the _Lumos_ charm once again. Even so, it was still hard to see very far ahead. Draco routinely lost sight of the deluminator's glow, hidden behind the thick tree trunks clustered around in every direction.

It didn't worry him though, since Weasley seemed to have a sort of second-sense about its location, finding it easily time and again. He moved with dogged determination actually, eyes locked to the deluminator's light whenever it reappeared, never wavering, no hesitation in his steps, bulldozing his way through anything in his path.

A sudden noise of rustling leaves sounded from somewhere behind Draco.

He sent a glance over his shoulder, eyes narrowed when he thought he saw some sort of vague shift in the darkness. It brought him up short.

He looked to the front, expecting to see Weasley had stopped as well, but no. Draco realized he'd completely lost sight of the oblivious Gryffindor, who apparently hadn't noticed anything at all and had kept moving right along. Tunnel-visioned git.

With an annoyed snort, he turned around fully, holding his wand up high. He was not in the mood to be taken surprise by anything. But beyond his light, all he could see was bushes and more damn trees. Nothing else.

Eyes still narrowed, he scanned carefully to either side of the shadows, looking for movement, or a shape, or a –

Something exploded out of a bush to his left, flying at his face as he stumbled.

"_Ah_!" he cried out, reeling backwards.

It pivoted, shot past him- a creature of some sort, he realized in his shock- he got an up close and personal look at it: furry, with wings and pointed fangs too big for its mouth. Twin flames shot out of its nostrils and it chittered loudly as it flew by, leathery wings flapping as it rose higher, a tail swinging behind it.

He managed to right himself, watching until the beast finally disappeared somewhere in the labyrinth of branches above.

A monstrously large bat that could breathe fire... He struggled to collect his thoughts, heart pounding madly while he glanced down at the singed bush it had appeared from. Smoke still curled from its burnt leaves, the wispy, gray vapor rising slowly.

Like a puzzle piece finally falling into place, he abruptly realized just where he and Weasley had been led. The Forbidden Forest. Of _course_. Filled to the brim with magical creatures like that wretched little bat-thing.

He tightened his grip on his wand, the realization of how close he must be to finding his mother settling his frayed nerves.

Determination filled him and Draco started off again, almost at a jog on the uneven terrain. He followed the telltale signs of Weasley's path- more broken tree branches, disturbed ground- and it didn't take long before a small opening in the forest appeared and he saw it...

Hogwarts, just as he'd suspected.

The castle was ablaze with lights, standing tall and proud in the distance on the long, sloped lawns of the school's dark grounds.

In fact, he was so distracted by the impressive sight, that Draco didn't even notice the large, shadowed figures waiting on either side of him until he'd already taken his first few steps out from the forest.

Too late, Draco finally saw the danger.

In a panic he made to lift his wand towards one of the shapes, but the other rushed forward and grabbed his arm. Squeezed. Painfully tight.

"Don't even think about it," it rumbled in a deep, baritone voice.

Draco froze for a moment, but even in his fear and shock, recognition coursed through him. He'd know that voice anywhere.

"_Goyle_?" he finally managed.

His friend's grip remained like a vice around his bicep, and Draco thought he must have spoken in Parseltongue. He tried to turn and get a look at him, but that grip held him still.

"_Knew_ the blood traitor weren't alone! Told ya', didn' I!"

Draco whipped his head around, and he was not particularly surprised see the owner of the jeering voice was Vincent Crabbe. You would never find one without the other. "Didn' I tell ya'?" he continued with a gormless grin, immensely pleased with himself.

"Shockingly, you did, yes," another voice spoke up before a tall, slim figure stepped out from behind Crabbe's shoulder and a smiling Blaise Zabini was revealed. His almond-shaped eyes narrowed as he surveyed Draco across from him. "Who's your friend Weasley..." Blaise asked quietly, using the toe of his polished shoe to poke the Gryffindor laying at their feet, who Draco had not noticed before. "Another blood-traitor?"

Weasley was clearly under some sort of body-bind hex, quite unable to answer any questions, frozen in an awkward position on his side. His lip was cut open, and blood poured freely down his chin. Ambushed while Draco had lagged behind, distracted by that bat creature.

Blaise continued, "Maybe even someone from that oh so _secret _Order?"

"Yeah, someone for that oh so secret Order!" Crabbe parroted, though lacking any of Blaise's subtle threatening tones. "Who're ya'? Huh? Speak up!"

"The Order...?" Draco repeated quietly, brows drawing together in confusion as he tried to gather himself. How could they think he was from the Order?

"Oi, speak up!" Crabbe barked again.

He gazed back at their suspicious glares, slowly coming to the conclusion that apparently his fellow Sytherins didn't even recognize him. Clearly had no idea who he was.

Draco glanced down at himself; at his threadbare shirt and faded, grass-stained jeans (which only managed to stay up with the use of a belt he'd magically mended numerous times – the metal clasp kept falling apart). He noted the grime and layers of dirt that covered virtually every part of him thanks to Weasley's earlier _bombarda_ charm. And there was his shaved head, of course. The scars, too...

Altogether, it was a far cry from his usual immaculate hygiene and tailored robes made from only the finest cloths, no doubt gathering dust while they hung useless and unused back at the Manor.

Of course they didn't recognize him, he thought bitterly. He looked _nothing_ like himself. He looked like some unclean, street urchin. A _Muggle_ street urchin, at that.

Blaise drew his attention again, breaking him from his thoughts as he took a half-step closer. He still appeared as if he was trying to place exactly who Draco was.

Draco realized that he needed to take advantage of this moment of uncertainty. Calculating how, or even _if_, he could somehow play it to his advantage and try to make something of it. Maybe get them on his side...?

Draco cleared his throat, and hoping against hope that it would be English that came out of his mouth, he injected as much contempt into his tone as he could, lip curling in disgust, "Really Blaise? Are you _that_ dense?" Without waiting for a response or reaction, he shifted and jerked his trapped arm, hard. Goyle wasn't expecting it and Draco managed to tear himself free. He took a quick step away, sending a stoney glare up at the taller boy. "You trying to give me a bruise you idiot?"

Goyle's mouth fell open, shock and surprise on his face as he stared at him, blinking rapidly underneath his thick eyebrows. "D_-D__raco_?" His empty hand dropped back to his side.

Draco smirked, hiding his relief that Parseltongue hadn't stolen his words this time. He turned from Goyle to the others.

Crabbe had stepped back, and he wore a similar expression of shock. Blaise much the same, but unlike the other two, he recovered more quickly, schooling himself to a toned down sort of bemusement.

His gaze trailed Draco up and down, one eyebrow rising high as he seemed to take it all in. "Well, I must say, you look..." he struggled to find the right word, a smug grin slowly taking over his face as he met Draco's eyes. As they stared each other down, he finally finished in a tone dripping with amused contempt: "_different._"

Despite himself, Draco felt a burning embarrassment roll through him, but he too, schooled his expression. Thinking quickly, he spat, "Well, considering I've actually been out fighting a war while you've been safe and cozy in Hogwarts hiding under Snape's robes, yes I imagine I look a little different to you."

"Fighting a war?" Blaise repeated, still sounding more amused than anything. Draco's comment hadn't bothered him like he'd hoped. "What are you going on about? Last I heard you've been on the run, hiding under Potter's robes yourself. In fact, your aunt Bellatrix said she saw you with his group some months back-"

"My aunt has never been the most reliable of witnesses-"

Blaise continued as if Draco hadn't spoken, something he never would have dared to do last year, "And look at that," he kicked the paralyzed Weasley once again, hard, in the back, "here's the proof right here, Potter's right-hand man himself. So why, exactly, are you hanging around with one of the biggest blood traitors there is, _Draco_? Hm? Care to explain yourself?"

"Explain myself?" he gave a laugh, ignoring the pointed use of his first name, "To you? Please."

Blaise's expression turned a bit more dangerous, voice flat, "Yes. To me."

Draco snorted as if amused, but really he was at a loss for words. He felt knocked off-balance by the quick dismissals and accusations, unsure how to respond. This wasn't like the verbal sparrings they used to have, where Draco had the advantage, and more often than not, _he_ the one doing the dismissing. _He_ the one that Blaise differed to, in either respect or fear of the power of his family's retribution.

Apparently, Blaise didn't harbor that fear or respect any longer. Draco felt heavy with the weight of that realization and he struggled to think of something to say as the silence stretched, someway to get the upper-hand in this conversation.

Surprisingly, Goyle came to his rescue, voice low and somewhat hesitant, "Maybe... Weasley didn't even know about Draco, maybe Draco was chasing him- I mean, Weasley was ahead of him after all, they weren't really together were they?"

Draco didn't hesitate. He grasped onto this feeble explanation with all the righteous, haughty anger he could muster: "Dear lord Zambini, has _Goyle_ become the brains of the seventh-year Slytherins since I've been gone? He's the only one around here who seems to be bloody using one! You didn't even think to entertain the thought that I was only _following_ the fool? Perhaps seeing if he might lead me to Potter so I could report his location to the Dark Lord?" He raised his chin imperiously, and struck with an idea he held his left arm out, hovering his wand above the Dark Mark. A visual reminder of his close link to Voldemort.

"Spare me the dramatics," Blaise spat, "you were _not_ about to report anything to the Dark Lord." Despite his words, his eyes cut down to the mark and Draco thought he saw a small spark of doubt flit across the other boy's face.

Encouraged by this, he tried to plant more doubt: "You sure about that? Use your head you imbecile, you really think I would stoop to working with _Weasley? _Of all the dozens of explanations that I'm sure were bouncing around in that little mind of yours, _that's_ the one you came up with?"

Blaise took the insults in stride, asking dubiously, "So, you're telling me that Harry Potter is inside Hogwarts right now, then?"

"Perhaps it might behoove us to _go __find out_. Have you known Weasley to wander alone anywhere for some reason? Did you not just say yourself he's Potter's 'right-hand man'?"

Blaise didn't respond, but his head tilted slightly to the side. As if considering Draco's words.

"_No!"_

Surprised, Draco looked over at Crabbe. So far during their talk, Crabbe had remained silent, his gaze going between the two, back and forth, apparently unsure of how to handle the situation. At the sight of Blaise's hesitation though, he became resolved. "Why're ya' even listenin' to him?" Crabbe continued angrily. "Don't matter what he says anyway! Don't take orders from 'im anymore, he's finished innit! Him and his parents!"

Draco glared, furious at the sudden betrayal, but not necessarily surprised. In recent years Crabbe had shown somewhat of a jealous, hostile side towards Draco, and in his absence apparently it had only grown stronger.

"Try to focus you bloody muppet," Draco ground out, teeth clenched, "if you'd actually been _listening_ you'd know I'm not _ordering_ anyone to do anything, I'm simply giving suggestions-"

"What?" Crabbe interrupted, frowning.

"What do you mean _what_?" Draco said.

"What are you' doin'?"

Draco was at a loss. The lummox was making no sense whatsoever. Crabbe was an idiot, but he wasn't_ that_ stupid. "Whatare you going on about?" But then he noticed it wasn't just Crabbe, but Blaise and Goyle too. All three were staring at him, with the same confused expression.

"Why's he talkin' like that?" Crabbe glanced over at Blaise. "What's he doin'?"

"I'm not sure- oh." Blaise suddenly laughed, face clearing. "He doesn't realize he's doing it... Hey, Draco, you had the time to learn a new language while out 'fighting a war' huh? Private lessons from Potter, I assume?"

Parseltongue, he realized. He'd started speaking in Parseltongue again.

His stomach sank while Crabbe chortled at the comment. Damn it. He knew any headway he'd made at convincing Blaise to let him get into Hogwarts to supposedly find Potter was gone. He could see it written all over Zambini's face.

As if to confirm this, Blaise lifted his wand, "_Expelliarmus__!_"

Draco tried to hold on, but it was useless and his own wand slipped from his fingers.

Blaise shook his head as he caught it. "You've really been through the wringer haven't you Malfoy? You're falling apart on me here."

Draco, obviously, didn't respond. He stood silently, hands clenched in fists, hating everything. What could he do though? Three against one, circled on all sides. It felt like a lost cause to fight. The only chance he'd had was to convince them to work with him, but now, with his voice stolen away once again, he had nothing.

Blaise pocketed Draco's wand. "Right. Let's take them to the Carrow's. They'll be waiting for us to report back with the other patrols anyway." He made a quick motion and Weasley flew up into the air, still frozen in that awkward position as he floated. The sword was still attached to his belt loop and as he rose, its tip caught against the ground and it slipped loose and fell to the grass with a heavy thud.

Crabbe was the first to move, and he rushed forward eagerly, snatching it up.

"Well that's quite a fancy piece of weaponry," Blaise commented, eyeing it with keen interest. "Give it here," he demanded, holding out his hand. Somewhat reluctant, Crabbe gave it up, and Blaise examined the blade and hilt. "Looks a bit out of Weasley's price range... How did he get a hold of this?"

Annoyed at having it taken from him, Crabbe stood with his arms crossed. He answered Blaise's contemplation with bitterness clear in his tone, "Better let the Carrow's sort it out, shouldn't ya'?"

"We're already late reporting back," Goyle added with trepidation, "and you know how they get..."

"Here," Blaise handed the sword back to Crabbe, who's face lit up like a child being given sweets. "Come on. Let's go."

Goyle's hand returned to Draco's arm, and Crabbe moved forward to grasp his other.

They started off and Draco was practically dragged forward between them, stumbling before he managed to get his feet back under him. "Watch it!" he barked in protest of the callous treatment.

They didn't respond. Because of Parseltongue or because they were ignoring him, he didn't know.

The closer they got to the castle, the tighter their grips became. His heart pounded against his ribs, his friends-turned-captors forced to practically lift Draco off his feet as he struggled. By the time they had circled around to the front of the castle Draco knew he would have some significant bruises on his arms in the following days. If he survived that long, anyway.

"Eh? What's this then?"

Waiting at the foot of the stairs that lead into the school were the Death Eater siblings, Alecto and Amycus Carrow.

Draco's stomach dropped at the sight of them, an icy feeling of terror creeping over him.

Amycus' sour expression changed to a rather nasty grin as the group approached. "Well, well, well, lookie at this. You three caught some Gryffindor's sneaking out the grounds past curfew, eh?"

Alecto nudged a stubby finger into her brother's side. "What do you think? Is it a good enough excuse for them being late to report back?"

Amycus said, "I don't know, maybe the whole lot of 'em needs a quick refresher course in the Cruciatus Curse..."

Crabbe and Goyle both shifted nervously, but Blaise drew himself up and stepped forward. "I think you'll find we need no such thing." He waved his wand with a cocky flourish and Weasley dropped to the ground in a pile of loose limbs, released from the body-bind hex. "Here's Ron Weasley, known accomplice of Harry Potter. And over there is-"

"Draco Malfoy!" Crabbe blurted, trying to steal some of Blaise's spotlight. "Yeah! We found 'em at the edge of the Forbidden Forest!"

Draco felt nauseous as the siblings shocked faces focused on him.

Wasting no time, Alecto crossed the short distance between them, grabbed the collar of Draco's shirt and pulled him down so they were eye-to-eye. She scanned his grimacing face quickly. "Bloody hell, it _is_ him... It's him Amycus!" She let him go and took a few paces back, eyes darting towards Weasley who had managed to get back to his feet. "We- we need to tell Snape about them!"

"Forget Snape, we need to tell the Dark Lord himself!" Amycus pulled up the sleeve of his robes, poised to press his forefinger down to the mark.

"No!" She shrieked, hysterical, "No, we were told only to do that if we have Potter or Narcissa!"

He hesitated before he let his robes fall back into place, clearly irritated. "You-" he pointed at Crabbe, "go fetch Snape! Now! Quickly!"

Crabbe nodded, releasing Draco, and he turned to dart up the stone staircase. He still had the sword in his hand, but in all the excitement, the Carrow's hadn't even noticed it. Draco watched him disappear into the castle.

"It was just these two you found out there? No one else?" Amycus asked, focusing on Blaise, "No sign of Potter? Or Narcissa Malfoy?"

"No, no, just these two."

Alecto pointed her wand at Draco's chest, eyes blazing. Her voice high and screechy, she demanded, "Where's your mum? Eh? When did you see her last? Is she with Potter? _W__here's __Potter__?_"

Draco stuttered out a half-truth, "I-I don't know, we were, we were separated, I don't know where he is now-"

Her flat face twisted in anger and confusion. "You're takin' the piss! What is this?! _Answer me_!"

He paused and took a deep breath before he continued, spacing his words out carefully, hoping the Parseltongue effect had gone, "I'm telling you, I don't know where Potter is I haven't seen him-"

"Stop it! I'm not in the mood for whatever game you're tryin' to play! _C__rucio_!"

Unimaginable agony overcame every sense. He fell to the ground, ripped away from Goyle's hold on his arm. It was unbearable. His body jerked and twitched helplessly, he could do nothing to stop it.

The pain lifted.

Panting, Draco shakily looked up to see Alecto staring back at him without sympathy. "Just a taste, that," she jeered. "Now, ya' feelin' more motivated to answer my questions? Where are the others?!"

"I'm trying," he gasped, "just wait_\- wait_ for a bloody second-"

A screech of impatience and all he saw was another flash of red light, and his world exploded in pain once more.

He twisted on the grass, lost in suffering. It seemed to go on forever. He heard himself start to scream.

"- ask you again! _Where are the others_!"

Draco's ears were ringing as he slowly came back to his senses. His vision was doubled and blurry but he could make out that Alecto was still poised above him, clearly waiting for an answer.

Desperately, he struggled to form coherent words: "I- I don't-" His voice broke and he swallowed. Draco's teeth chattered and his arms and legs were shivering as if he were cold. "We were separated-"

"_Still_ playing games? Hah! _Cruc_-"

"Stop! It's enough! He can't answer your questions!"

Alecto's blurry countenance suddenly moved, she shifted to point her wand off to the side, out of Draco's eyesight.

"He can't answer you, he's been cursed and he can't speak properly!"

Blaise was defending him? He tried to get a hold of himself, to regain his thoughts and tune out that terrible ringing noise.

"Is that right? Well _you_ sound perfectly fine, so you tell me where the others are! Now! Spit it out!"

"I-I don't know, we haven't had any contact for months, not since we were almost captured by Death Eaters-"

"Bullocks!"

Draco turned his head to the side and saw it was Weasley, not Blaise, who stood at the other end of the Death Eater's wand. His freckles stood out vividly on his pale, frightened face.

"You're a damn liar," Alecto continued, "and you're gonna' pay!"

"No. Save it," the other Death Eater spoke up, stopping his sister before she could follow through on her threat. "You're wasting time here, let's jus' ship 'em off to the others. Let _them_ deal with it!"

"But we should find out what we can-"

"No, no, let's get rid of 'em. If we're the ones to turn 'em in, that's enough glory right there, isn't it? The Dark Lord will like that well enough... yeah, the others can torture 'em to find out where Potter is themselves."

"So you want to take them _now_? By ourselves? But- but what about Snape?"

Amycus sent a withering look back towards the castle doors. "That stupid boy probably got lost on his way there, the barmy oaf. He'll be punished. We can't wait any longer! Come on!"

Not a moment later, Draco felt a hand wrap around his arm. He was pulled up to his feet, where he experienced such a head rush that he nearly keeled over again, stumbling drunkenly. Somebody was saying something next to him but he was too busy fighting off the urge to faint to figure it out.

He was dragged forward, forced to get his feet moving and under him. He focused enough that he could see it was Amycus holding onto him now, towing him along the path that wound its way down towards Hogwarts main entrance gates. Blaise and Goyle followed behind, wands pointed at Weasley who was positioned between them.

Alecto rushed ahead, reaching the huge, wrought iron bars first. She cast some complicated incantation and the lock mechanism came to life, the cogs turning and clicking loudly until it unlocked. She grabbed the gate and it gave a low-pitched groan as she pushed it open.

"This is it," Amycus said, turning towards the Slytherin students, "you two, stay here. Lock the gate behind us and don't let anyone in."

Blaise and Goyle did a terrible job of hiding their obvious relief at the news that they would be staying behind.

"If Snape comes, you tell him everything, you got that?"

"Yes, of course," Blaise said, nodding quickly. Then, for the first time since handing him over to the Carrow's, he met Draco's eyes, and there was a long moment where they held each other's gaze. Draco saw the dark brown orbs were wild, glittering madly, like someone who knew, deep down, that they had done something terribly wrong but were too busy riding the high of adrenaline to acknowledge it.

Draco felt a sudden wave of hatred for him. For how easily he had turned his back on him. Did he not realize he had brought Draco to his death? Did he not care?

"Move it blood traitor!" Alecto ordered, wand leveled at Weasley, "Let's go!"

Amycus and Alecto each had a hold of them, and as a group, they crossed the threshold and passed through the Apparition ward. Almost immediately, Draco felt the sudden, tight constriction in his gut and they turned on the spot and whirled away.

He was light-headed when he found his feet again, still ailing from the Cruciatus Curse after-effects, and when he managed to catch his breath and look around at his surroundings, he thought he might just pass out for real.

"What's the matter Draco? Ain't ya' happy?" " Alecto asked in a mocking tone, seeing his shocked face. She waved grandly and elaborately at the estate before them, locked behind another iron gate. But Draco was familiar with this particular gate. He recognized the country road they stood on, and he knew what lay beyond, just up ahead, behind the hedges.

He should have expected it, but he hadn't... he hadn't really thought about where they would be taken...

"Home sweet home!" she cackled.

* * *

_this chapter is named after a song by Imagine Dragons_


	23. The Hanging Tree (Part One)

My beta reader hated my summary so I've changed it yet again. If you can think of any other improvements, I'd welcome the suggestions!

On to the story...

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

_**The Hanging Tree (Part One)**_

It was a sudden onslaught on all his senses as Harry felt himself whirling into existence: a terrible, high-pitched squalling filled his ears, followed almost immediately by the heavy, coppery scent of blood that hung in the air. He nearly gagged, sure he could taste it.

"Harry?"

He turned to see Hermione. She stood just ahead, her hands held out awkwardly in front of her, as if beckoning him for a hug.

It was a surreal image and it took Harry a moment to realize he'd misinterpreted her stance. She didn't want a hug; blood ran down her hands and dripped from her fingers as she held them away from herself, trying to avoid it further staining her clothes. It was futile though, big, dark splotches of it already covered the front of her shirt and jeans both.

"Are you hurt?" he asked in alarm. There was _so much_.

"What?" She looked confused, dazed. A bit overwhelmed. "No, no, it's all Narcissa's..." She nodded towards a curtained off area of the hospital wing. "She's back there, Madam Pomfrey's taking care of her."

Snape, who still stood next to him, moved suddenly, rushing away towards where Hermione indicated.

"Wait," Hermione grabbed Snape's cloaked arm with a sticky hand, asking urgently, "what about Ron? And Draco? Do you know where they are? Were they found?"

Without answering, Snape shook loose of her and continued across the room.

"Hey!"

She looked back to Harry, anguish coloring her features.

"We don't know anything yet," he told her, trying to hold himself above his own worry, not to let it effect him, for both their sakes, "Snape will be one of the first to know though, like you said before. The other Death Eaters would report it to him if they'd been captured."

Hermione bit her lip as she turned back to watch Snape, but he'd already disappeared behind the curtain.

That high-pitched screeching and squalling alarm still hadn't stopped, and now it had reached near deafening heights. It was coming from Pomfrey's office he realized. Wincing as it hit a particularly sharp note, Harry demanded, "_What is that noise_?"

"Oh, the... the baby." Anxiety ran through her voice. "It's the baby... it's crying."

Harry felt a chill pass through him. He remembered speaking with Dumbledore, and the image of the wriggling, pathetic creature he'd seen flashed in his mind's eye... the remnants of what was left of Voldemort's ripped apart soul. Surely that's what the baby in the office resembled.

Hermione was staring down at her hands, as if seeing the red color for the first time. She started speaking in a low voice, "Pomfrey cut it out of her. Cut the baby right out of her stomach. I thought with magic it would be a different process than Muggles have- y'know, something more, something more precise and-and _clean_... but it wasn't. Wasn't clean at all. If we'd been able to take her to St. Mungo's it might've been different but obviously we couldn't do that- oh Harry it all happened so _fast_ and-and I had to hold it while Pomfrey healed Narcissa. I had to hold . . . _it_," her voice dropped, "I held it in my _arms_-"

She was breathless, shuddering, still staring at her red hands.

Harry wasn't sure what to do. What to say. Her emotions were clearly frayed and raw with everything that had happened. On instinct, he finally pulled out his wand. "_Scourgify,__" __he said, _carefully touching it to her.

Soapy bubbles sprayed forth, whipping themselves into a frenzy over the mess of blood. Eventually they dripped to the ground, falling away to reveal clean, shiny, pink palms.

Suddenly the curtain behind them was whipped back loudly and Madam Pomfrey's head poked out, face pale and pinched with anxiousness as her eyes fixed on them. "Go check on that poor baby!" she snapped, nodding towards her office. "I can't do everything myself you know!" Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared again from view.

To Harry's relief, his spell seemed to have helped break Hermione out of whatever stupor she'd been in. Her face was clear as she took Harry's arm, pulling him forward. "Come on."

Together they walked into Pomfrey's office. An old-fashioned bassinet was set flush up against the wall, its cloth canopy obstructing Harry's view of the wailing creature that lay underneath. He could only see the baby's feet moving madly beneath a thin blanket as it kicked and screamed.

Hermione released him and hung back behind while he drew closer. Morbid curiosity overrode his reluctance and fear. He stepped up beside the crib, and he gazed down, taking in the sight.

Half of the wailing baby's face was healthily flushed, a bright pink, _normal_...

But it was the other side that made Harry grimace. It was patchy and sallow, an unnatural pallet of gray, with visible blue veins running underneath the skin like little webs. On top of its head thin, white-blonde hair grew out on only half, while the other side remained bald, veined and protruding.

The disturbing fun-house mirror effect continued all over the baby's body. One little fist was clenched and normal, the other was misshapen, oversized, with random bulges of muscle or bone throughout it's entire arm. One of the legs too, though hidden under the blanket, he could still see it was overgrown. Deformed. Wrong.

He tore his eyes from the sight, feeling a sort of disgust and pity both.

He noticed a bottle that was lying beside the creature when a flailing fist knocked into it. Harry hesitated, looking down at it, and back to the crying baby. Sharp, pointed teeth were visible in its open, wailing mouth.

He found he didn't really want to touch the thing.

"Alright, move, move-"

Suddenly an impatient Madam Pomfrey was there next to him, buffering him to the side. She reached down into the bassinet herself, swooping up the child and the blanket with deft hands, cradling it to her chest while she put the bottle to the baby's mouth.

Immediately, it clamped down and the room fell into silence as the infant began to feed. Its eyes blinked open and Harry saw one was a familiar gray that seemed identical to Draco Malfoy's, while the other was blood-red with a slit pupil, which was a perfect match to Voldemort's own grotesque eyes. The juxtaposition of the two was a deeply unsettling sight.

Madame Pomfrey seemed unaffected though. She carefully tucked the blanket around the child, readjusted the bottle, making quiet, comforting noises all the while as she gazed at the baby's face.

Finally, she seemed satisfied. "Fetch me two of those beakers would you Mister Potter? The green ones, please," she said, nodding her head towards an open cabinet behind him, full of her colorful healing potions.

Without waiting for his consent, she turned on her heel to walk back out into the other room, clearly expecting to be followed.

Harry quickly grabbed them and both he and Hermione trailed after the old woman. The curtain on the other end of the room had been left pulled back and Narcissa was in full view now, propped up by multiple pillows on a hospital bed, layers of white blankets covering her from the waist down. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders.

As Pomfrey approached, Narcissa's impossibly pale, drawn face twisted into a scowl, glaring at the baby in the older woman's arms. She practically growled, "You'd be smart to throw that thing out the nearest window."

Pomfrey looked aghast. She huddled more protectively around the baby. "I'll do no such thing!"

Snape stepped up into view, blocking Narcissa momentarily. He too, was staring at the bundle in Pomfrey's arms. His gaze was calculating. "It certainly doesn't look how the Dark Lord prophesied it would. Is it male or female?"

"_She's_ a _girl_," Pomfrey replied with some heat, "not a _female_. A girl."

Snape was dismissive of her chastisement, almost speaking to himself, "Hmm. Another misestimation by the Dark Lord then. Interesting."

"Girl- boy- it's inconsequential! That thing shouldn't exist!" Narcissa insisted, voice rising angrily, wildly. She raised a shaking hand, and it caused her to wobble slightly from side-to-side on her throne of pillows as she pointed, "Take it out of my sight! Destroy it!"

Pomfrey's expression turned to concern. "Narcissa, calm yourself! You're still weak! Please, Mister Potter, give her one of the potions."

He stepped forward and held out a beaker. Narcissa took it with shaky fingers, but was able to toss the liquid down her throat in one smooth, practiced, move. Almost instantly color returned to her face and her gaze took on a more focused light. Though she was clearly still exhausted, the tremors ceased.

"Better," she said.

She threw the empty beaker carelessly to the side- it almost hit one of Snape's boots, but he just managed to step away and it shattered against the floor.

Pomfrey shifted the baby to one arm and pulled her wand, frowning while she levitated the glimmering pieces of glass to the nearest rubbish bin. "Was that necessary?"

Narcissa didn't notice or care though, her attention was locked solely on Harry. She didn't spare Pomfrey or the baby another look. "Just who I wanted to see. Now, tell me, Boy-Who-Lived... what exactly are your plans to find my son?"

He looked away from the trail of floating glass shards, meeting her expectant, piercing gaze. He suddenly experienced a moment of pure déjà vu. This was almost exactly how everything had began, so long ago, back in the summer. With Narcissa Malfoy in a hospital bed, pleading with him to go liberate her son from Voldemort's clutches.

"I don't know yet," he said honestly.

This answer did not satisfy her. Jaw set, she ordered, "Summon the house-elf again. He should be able to lead you to them."

"I told you before, Dobby is a free elf. I can't summon him," Harry replied evenly, "and I wouldn't anyway, he's not in any shape to help us."

She stared at him, furious. "_You can't be serious. _Even if summoning that creature caused him to lose _both_ his legs it would only be penance for his earlier mistake anyway! And what of your friend _Ron_? Do you so easily ignore his fate as you do my son's-?"

"We're not ignoring anyone's fate!" Hermione shouted suddenly, stepping forward. Harry glanced over at her, surprised, as was Narcissa. Hermione's cheeks were flushed and she looked angry. "We care about Ron, Dobby _and_ Draco! _All of them_ Narcissa!"

They glared at one another but before Narcissa could reply, Snape cut-in silkily, "In any case, Draco's whereabouts aren't particularly important at the moment-"

At that, Narcissa rounded on him, her face thunderous.

He clarified himself quickly: "If he or the Weasley boy had been captured by Death Eaters, I surely would have been informed by now, which, if you were thinking in your right mind, you would have realized yourself without having to be repeatedly reminded. But of course you've just been through a serious operation Narcissa," he reminded her, voice somewhat more calming then it had been a moment ago. "It's completely understandable."

She stared at him, nostrils flared, face tight. A few moments of silence stretched out before she began speaking, slowly and deliberate, "You know you're absolutely right. I'm _not_ thinking in my right mind. Because if I was I would have questioned much earlier the fact that you're standing here with Harry Potter himself... and yet you've not made a single move to report this to the Dark Lord."

Snape settled back on his feet without replying, his expression perfectly neutral. Harry could tell Narcissa had discomfited him with her observation. Courtesy of Dumbledore, Snape's secrets were slowly coming to light and Narcissa was the first person who realized not all was as it seemed concerning Snape's allegiance to Voldemort.

"Found it a bit odd myself." Madam Pomfrey spoke up from the chair she'd settled in, voice low, still cradling the baby.

_Two_, Harry inwardly counted, briefly wondering who the third person would be that noticed Snape's shifting loyalty.

"So have I been wasting my time talking to this child," Narcissa continued, waving a hand towards Harry, still holding her expression in an indignant scowl, "when I should have been directing my concerns to you all along? Are _you_ going to save my son? Are _you_ actually working against the Dark Lord, Severus? Maybe even searching for those Horcruxes as well...?"

Harry stood straighter. She knew about the Horcruxes? But not a moment passed before the thought followed that of _course_ she knew. Malfoy had been writing her notes non-stop when they were back at the campsite. In all that time, it only made sense that he'd said something about them.

"Draco told you," he said, inadvertently saving Snape from answering Narcissa's pointed questions. He didn't care about that. He wanted answers.

Narcissa turned her gaze in his direction. "Yes."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and he was somehow certain of the answer before he asked the question, "You think you know where one of them is, don't you?"

She blinked, looking startled by his insight. "Yes, I believe I do."

He felt hope and purpose reigniting in his chest. After so much had gone wrong, maybe something good could come out of this terrible situation after all. "Where-?"

"She's lying, Harry."

He looked over to see Hermione, her arms crossed and gaze hard.

"She's just trying to use this as leverage," she continued, sounding absolutely convinced, "otherwise, why wouldn't she have said something before this?"

"Ha! Such naivety," Narcissa sniffed, unimpressed. "Silly girl. To believe that I would freely tell you crucial information that could possibly be used to my advantage in the future? Why? Out of the goodness of my heart?" Her voice practically dripped with sarcasm. "Is that what they teach you Gryffindors? Can't say I'm very surprised." She tossed some hair over her shoulder, turning her attention back to Harry. "Bring me my son and I'll tell you where the Horcrux is."

It was obvious that Hermione still remained dubious. Though he put a lot of stock in her opinion, his own instincts were throwing up flags, telling Harry he ought to take Narcissa seriously.

He looked down at the other glass beaker he still held in his hand, tilting the green liquid side to side as he thought of what to say.

"It's pointless to keep any information to yourself now," Harry finally spoke as he took a step closer to her bedside. "Here-" He held the beaker out. "If Draco really told you what the Horcruxes are then you know they're the key to destroying Vold- You-Know Who. And now that he can't get his hands on the baby for the ritual he had planned, the Horcruxes are _all_ that's left. His last defense, no more back-ups. We _can_ actually destroy him. You and your family would be safe."

He paused, maintaining her gaze as she settled back into the pillows with her potion. The room was silent save for the sounds of the child squirming in Pomfrey's arms, still sucking hungrily on the bottle.

Narcissa's expression was carefully blank.

"I can destroy him," Harry finished.

Her eyes flicked up to his forehead, locking onto his scar. A permanently etched reminder of how he was the only one to ever survive Voldemort's Killing Curse. It carried meaning to someone like her. Someone who was deathly afraid of facing retribution of a supposed invincible dark wizard... yet, irrefutable proof of the opposite was staring right back at her, and he could see the doubt shadowing across her face. The Boy Who Lived.

He asked her, "Where's the Horcrux Narcissa?"

She hesitated.

Snape suddenly moved. "_Silence_!" he hissed. Harry jumped in surprise while the man reached up past both he and Hermione and grabbed a handful of the curtain behind them. With a whip of his hand he pulled it firmly closed.

Not a second later, just as the curtain stopped swinging, he heard the door to the hospital wing burst open.

"_Harry_!" A familiar voice called in a harsh whisper. Harry recognized it straightaway. Neville. "Harry are you here?"

_Wretched__ timing_, he thought with a frown. Narcissa was refusing to meet his gaze now, and he'd been so close. He didn't know if he'd get another chance to convince her, the moment was gone.

"_Harry_?"

"That's Neville, isn't it?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I ran into him before- I'll get him to leave-" Without bothering to explain further, he carefully slipped past the curtain, careful not to reveal the others.

"I thought you'd be here," Neville said with relief upon seeing him.

The other boy had his wand pointed towards an unconscious body floating in the air behind him. Closer inspection revealed it was one of Malfoy's old cronies, Vincent Crabbe.

"What's this about?" Harry asked, confused. "Why did you bring _him_ here?"

"Caught him when he was trying to get into the Headmaster's Office," Neville explained quickly, "I ducked in the same room you'd been before, and I heard this idiot pounding on the gargoyle, trying to get Snape's attention. He was yelling- well ranting really, about how he'd been sent by the Carrows to fetch him. I dunno', it seemed like it might be important... and when you didn't come down, I remembered that you'd mentioned the hospital wing and Hermione so I figured I'd try and bring him to you. Oh yeah, and..." he paused and flipped open the side of his school robe.

Harry didn't move, probably he stopped breathing. He tore his eyes from Neville's belt and looked back up at the clueless, brave and incredibly surprising Gryffindor.

The light from the candlesticks about the room caught and reflected brilliantly against the metal of a blade encrusted with sparkling jewels and Neville pulled the familiar sword free of his belt. "Crabbe had this on him too."

"Godric Gryffindor's sword," Harry breathed. He took hold of its handle, staring down at the blade, confusion only mounting. "But... _Ron_ was the last person to have this. How did Crabbe even get a hold of it? It doesn't make sense-"

The curtain brushed his legs as Hermoine rushed out, her face a mask of fear as she stared at the sword in Harry's grasp.

"_Ron_!"

Harry stumbled, suddenly buffeted to the side by her rushing forward, knocking him off-balance. He felt the sword ripped from his grip.

"_Re__nnervate__!_"

Crabbe dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Hermione stood in front of him now, her wand in one hand, ready to cast a most painful revenge down on him. The sword in her other if the wand wasn't enough.

Blinking awake, Crabbe become aware of his position straight away, eyes practically crossing as he stared at Hermione's wand in his face. "Oi! Hey- _hey_-!" He pulled himself backwards along the floor in a desperate attempt to flee.

She followed with deliberate steps, until he could move no more, his back pressed up against the wall behind him. All he could do was cower pathetically while she towered above, her wand flattening his nose.

She held the sword up and asked in a dangerously quiet voice, "_Where __did you get this_?"

* * *

He was shocked to see the Malfoy Manor was in the same sorry state it had been the last time he'd had eyes on it.

Cracked walls. Shattered windows. A large section of the roof that dipped inward on itself. Even a large, crumbling gap, roughly the width and height of the young Chinese Fireball that had bulldozed its way through the bricks of the building, exposing the now abandoned foyer beyond.

It seemed not a single thing had been fixed or repaired in all the time that had passed since he and the Order had set dragons loose upon the building as a distraction for Harry. Ron was left with no doubt that the same Chinese Fireball had wreaked more destruction and chaos inside the Manor before the Death Eaters had finally regained control of the situation.

Next to him, Malfoy was more than shocked- he looked absolutely thunderstruck as he took in the sight, mouth agape. It was then that Ron remembered that Malfoy hadn't seen any of this devastation before. He probably hadn't even been told about it at all, actually. Nice surprise for him.

Rubble lay scattered around the yard, the sad remains of the various grand statues and fountains that had stood before. Water spurted from an exposed spout. It leaked onto the grass, creating a massive puddle of mud that had spread far beyond its cracked base.

Ron was marched right through the thick sludge while the aghast Malfoy was granted a bit of preferential treatment by the group of Death Eaters they'd been passed off to before the Carrows had left, allowed to walk around and avoid the majority of the mess.

The muck and gunk clung to Ron's shoes and he sunk into it almost to his ankles- it made walking more than a little difficult and he must have been moving too slow because he felt a large hand shove his back. The same spot that Zambini had kicked him earlier.

The unexpected spike of pain startled him and he nearly tripped face first into the mud. He managed to catch himself in time by windmilling his arms frantically.

There was an amused chortle behind him.

Ron fought down a fleeting, mad desire to turn 'round, grab whoever it was that was laughing and shove their dumb face underneath the mud until they drowned and instead, he kept his head down and continued to plod his way through the overgrown, destroyed lawn.

They finally reached the steps to the formerly magnificent, gilded entrance to the Manor, now tarnished by charred and blackened wood from a Norwegian Ridgeback's fire breath.

He paused at the bottom of the staircase, ice-water pumping through his veins as he gazed at the splintered doors ahead. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to _stop__._ He was simply too terrified to go any further.

He received another shove for his hesitation, accompanied by what was undeniably a wand pressing into the back of his neck. "_Move it_!

Amazing how a complete and utter lack of choice puts fear in it's place. "I'm moving! I'm bloody moving!" he mumbled angrily and shambled forward.

A sudden motion on his right. He felt a hand grab his arm as if to help him balance but then he was spun around. All he saw was an image of a curled fist before excruciating pain exploded around his right eye.

Ron stumbled, falling back onto the steps in a heap.

"No backtalk from a blood traitor like you!"

Before he could even think about what had happened the world flashed white again, and Ron reeled to the side, stunned, a tremendous blow landing against his ear and knocking him off the steps and to the ground.

Malfoy, off to the side, appeared queasy at the rough treatment, but Ron thought that was probably because of his own fear about what was to come and not a thing to do with Ron himself.

The Death Eater who'd attacked him loomed above, amused and satisfied as Ron struggled to right himself. "Let's go! Move it!"

Ron tried to push himself back to his feet but his legs were weak and focus slipped from him. The man had delivered a devastating blow to his head and Ron had trouble getting a solid grip on his surroundings.

The Death Eater tired of waiting though and he could offer no resistance when he was dragged up the stairs and into the Manor.

There was more rubble and destroyed walls inside, though it appeared less and less the further they went down the hallway. He woozily realized that the dragons must have only managed to reach the front wing before they'd been corralled.

He heard many voices, loud and excited. Like at a party in the common room after winning a Quidditch match. A door was pulled open for them as they approached and the voices immediately grew more fevered.

He and Malfoy were unceremoniously shoved to the center of an expansive drawing room and were quickly surrounded by Death Eaters. Circled, pressing in from all sides, their mask-less jeering, smirking faces boldly exposed by a grand chandelier above them.

Ron had never been more terrified in his life. More than when he thought he would be eaten alive by the giant spider Aragog, or even when he and the other members of Dumbledore's Army had been tricked into going to the Ministry of Magic only to find You-Know-Who's minions laying in wait, with murderous intentions.

He struggled to remain calm as the memories flew by, one-by-one, each worse than the last. But _this _time? Oh this was much, _much_ worse. Because in all those situations the common thread he could look to for strength was the certainty that his friends were around him, battling by his side, and they were all working together. A team.

He had no friends here, he thought, fighting desperately against his mounting panic. Only Malfoy, who was definitely not a friend, but not exactly an enemy. At least, not at the moment. An unspoken, tenuous truce existed between them because unlike anyone else in the room, they were the only two focused on making it out alive.

He chanced a glance over and saw Malfoy wasn't holding up too well either, his eyes darting about the room in a pure state of terror, seeking an escape. They had unconsciously drawn closer together as the crowd pressed close.

"Well, well, _well_! Nice to see you again!"

Suddenly the sea of black-cloaked figures in front of them parted and Bellatrix Lestrange came forward, wearing a shockingly genuine smile as she approached, and for some reason Ron found himself more frightened than if she'd been scowling. It was all he could do not to take a step away.

Next to him, Malfoy had no such qualms, shrinking back. A cheek muscle visibly began to spasm from his own anxiety.

Bellatrix gave him a mock-stern look. There was a glint of undeniable madness in her eyes. Something _off_. "Is that any way to greet your auntie? No "nice to see you'? Or even a simple 'hello'? Especially after you left so soon after our last meeting!" She reached up to pinch that same spasming cheek, giving it a not so gentle shake. "Shameful display of a lack of manners Draco, just shameful. Unbefitting of a Malfoy, really."

He glared at her and pulled himself back from her grip, shoving her hand away. He said something too, but it was in Parseltongue.

Ron grimaced, expecting Bellatrix to _Avada Kedavra_ Malfoy right then and there but to his surprise, she only looked amused.

"So the Carrows were right. You can't speak properly. Poor darling. We'll have to get you fixed up, I have some questions about _m__ummy_ _d__earest_."

Her glance shifted to Ron, any trace of amusement dropping from her expression. His fear ratcheted up a notch.

She looked him up and down, a lip curling. "Where's Potter?" she asked flatly.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

He swallowed. "We were separated back when you and your lot tried to capture us at Hogsmeade. I have no idea where they ended up."

"Lying scum!" someone shouted from the crowd.

He looked about for the owner of the voice, but wasn't sure who it had come from. He shouted back at the mass of faces, "No, it's not a lie-"

"Ha!" another laughed, and soon there were shouts and laughter from all around and the crowd was shifting, the emotion and excitement of the room rising while wands raised ever higher.

His heart raced. "No, it's true!" he said loudly over the noise, "That's the whole story! We were separated- something went wrong when we were Apparating and I don't know what's happened to them!"

Bellatrix tilted her head, watching him. Unblinking. He hated being this close to her.

"I'm telling the truth," he insisted faintly, knowing none of them would believe him.

She snorted. "Too bad. For you anyway. I guess we get to have a bit of fun before the Dark Lord arrives. He's been informed of your capture already you know. Oh, but I'm sure he won't mind if we get started without him -"

A tremendous bang interrupted her and Ron felt a rush of cold air, and he had to squint against it, his bangs fluttering back from his face before settling once more.

Immediately the gathering of people hushed, ducking their heads, bowing low. Low murmurings of prayer-like tones filled the room.

A tall, pale figure had appeared before them and it drew itself up, standing in a cloud of thick, black smoke that dissipated slowly from around its form. Only the red, slit, eyes were clearly visible, staring down at Ron and Malfoy before him.

Malfoy's knees were trembling, fighting the urge to drop down in supplication. Ron's hands kept reaching at his pockets, searching desperately, foolishly, hoping that somehow his wand would magically reappear there.

"Very good," Voldemort spoke quietly, a soft smile on his ugly face as he took in the sight of the two terrified boys in front of him. He raised both hands, the fading smoke curling around them in response to his movements. "Rise, my loyal servants. You have done well."

As the Death Eaters straightened around them, Voldemort came forward, seeming to glide.

Bellatrix bowed her head, backing out of the way. He reached out and lightly brushed a single finger across her cheek as he stepped in front of her, and she smiled.

All the blood had left Ron's extremities, pumping straight to his heart. He couldn't move. Rooted to the spot. By magic or dread, he didn't know.

Voldemort settled his gaze on Malfoy. "Draco, look at me."

Ron slid a glance at Malfoy. His scarred arms and neck were still red and painful-looking, and Ron wondered how long they'd played with him before he'd been rescued by Harry. Wondered what seeing his torturer was doing to him now. Wondered, mostly, if was going to be able to depend on a Slytherin if things went any more south than they already had.

Malfoy stared resolutely at the floor, but his whole body trembled. He hissed something.

Voldemort chuckled. He raised his wand, the _Elder Wand- _Ron remembered, terrified- pointing it at Malfoy's throat. He said a few words and a small light shot out.

It enveloped Malfoy's neck for a brief moment and he immediately began coughing violently.

"The last remaining effects of my transfiguration spell have been lifted," Voldemort said, ignoring his hacking, "you no longer have the gift of Parseltongue."

As Malfoy recovered, Voldemort shifted his eyes to Ron, pupils expanding momentarily before returning to their usual slits.

Voldemort lifted a pale hand towards him, and Ron flinched away. But he took no notice and pressed it to Ron's right ear, the same spot where the Death Eater had hit him earlier. His fingers came back bloody.

"So pure," Voldemort said thoughtfully, working his thumb on the tacky liquid. He then marked the tip of the Elder Wand with the blood. He spoke quiet words, and a sudden spark erupted from its end before the blood was absorbed. "A shame."

"What-what was that?" Ron demanded when he had recovered from the horror of Voldemort's touch, though it came out more like a pleading inquiry. Squeaky and high-pitched. "What did you just do?"

"Impudent child. You dare address me so? Bow down to your master."

He swung his wand in a short move, and suddenly Ron felt himself drop to the floor, on his knees. There was no thought involved, it was completely involuntary. He tried to stop himself from further movement, but he could not, and though he struggled his forehead pressed slowly to the floor, hands splayed out on either side of his bowed form.

Voldemort gave a low chuckle as he turned away from Ron's bent posture. "And what of you Draco?" Voldemort asked tauntingly. "Do you remember who your master is now, or shall I remind you as well?"

He felt Malfoy drop down next to him, assuming the same humiliating position. "My Lord," he intoned hopelessly.

"You should be begging my forgiveness young Malfoy."

"... Forgive me."

Voldemort gave a wheezing laugh. "Ah, going through the motions are we Draco? _Crucio_."

Malfoy writhed.

Voldemort began speaking over his agonized cries, addressing the captivated audience, "I am your only salvation, not only for this pitiable boy but for you all! I am now the true and rightful owner of the legendary Elder Wand, and I will lead the Wizarding World into glory!" He rose his hands high, his words full of power and pride. "We will rid ourselves of the Muggle scourge of this Earth and no longer will we hide in the shadows, hiding our magic, our powers, our true selves... No, we will claim what is rightfully ours! With the Elder Wand in my position nothing will be able to stop our forces! _I am invincible_."

The crowd roared their approval.

In all the noise and cheering, Malfoy was finally freed from the torture curse. He lay on his side, only inches away, chest heaving, limbs jerking. "This is it," he panted tonelessly, expression bleak, "this is it..."

Ron couldn't stand to hear such hopelessness. Even as desperate as everything seemed, surrounded by Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, somehow he still had hope. "_No_," he found himself whispering back fiercely, "they'll come for us."

Draco locked eyes with him. "_How_?" he demanded. But Ron could tell he was desperate to believe him. To have something tangible to hold onto. "They have no idea where we even _are_."

He gave a grim smile. "Hasn't stopped 'em before."

A tiny bit of Malfoy's usual disgusted tone came back to him. "Bloody Gryffindor optimism."

The noises had quieted around them, and Voldemort spoke. "Now, it is time to send a message to the supposed figurehead of our opposition."

Ron felt control slip from him again and he mechanically climbed back up to his feet. It was a terrifying feeling. Like the Imperius Curse but worse. He wasn't in some trance-like state, happily following Voldemort's orders. He was fully conscious, aware, and yet, he still could not stop himself.

"Through Leglimency I have already determined these two to believe that Potter and Narcissa Malfoy are in Hogwarts."

Bellatrix called out excitedly, "We're ready to attack My Lord! At your word!"

"Oh we will join them soon, not to worry. But first I must prepare a... surprise for Potter. A demoralizing present, really."

Voldemort paused, surveying Ron critically, who met the cold gaze, heart pumping madly in his chest. He felt it might just break out of his rib cage.

"Ah, I know."

He waved his wand lazily, and Ron suddenly felt his hand begin to rise in response to the unspoken command. It was a motion that could not be stopped, as inevitable as a gathering wave headed for shore. The hand continued to rise and grope towards his own face.

Towards his swollen, bruised, eye.

"Wait," Ron gasped.

His body responded to his fear, every muscle tightened, small tremors that ran up and down his limbs from the strain. But still, his hand would not halt its forward movement.

His fingers rearranged themselves into a claw-like form and began pushing down, into his eye.

"Wait- no- _s__top __this_!"

This had to be a dream- a nightmare! But no, it was real, the pressure was terrible, sickening. Pain shot through him like bursts of lightning. Blood rained down the right side of his face.

"No!" He screamed, "Stop- _please_!"

He could feel wet bits of mush gather and stick underneath his nails while his fingers kept digging and destroying, slipping together in the slick moisture.

Nausea overcame him and unable to bend at the waist or turn his head, he vomited over the front of himself.

Voldemort's face was impassive during this. Bellatrix watched with a heaving breast, torn between disgust and intrigue like many of the Death Eaters behind her.

Malfoy was still on the floor, crouched, staring with horror. His head moved quickly from side to side. "No, no no no..."

Voldemort let the grotesque display continue for another minute before cutting it off with a sharp wand move.

Ron's hand immediately withdrew.

His right eye was gone. Gone. Ron shook madly, teeth chattering. His guilty fingers were held out in front of him, the bloody, gory remains of what they'd done still clinging to them. A monstrous tableau.

Ron stared at it with his remaining eye, beginning to feel faint. His breath came in short spurts as he panted and trembled. He was not allowed to collapse though, still held up by whatever dark spell he was under.

"Very nice. But not enough. One more to go," Voldemort announced, raising his wand once more.

He paused suddenly, looking beyond Ron. Footsteps echoed loudly as someone entered the room behind him.

"You were not among the ones I summoned. What are you doing here?" Voldemort questioned.

"I'm sorry to interrupt my Lord," a familiar voice drawled, "but I bring news. Urgent."

"What is it?"

The person drew closer. Ron could barely pay attention to the conversation around him though, the edge of his limited vision was darkening. He was slipping into shock.

"Apparently there's been a break-in at Gringott's. Bellatrix Lestrange's vault has been raided."

"WHAT?" Bellatrix shrieked.

Voldemort turned his gaze to her.

She looked sick. Panicked. "My Lord! There must be a mistake! Gringott's is the safest place- it's impossible- surely, a mistake!" She rounded on whoever it was that had delivered this terrible information. "This is blasphemy! Who told you these _lies_?"

Severus Snape stepped into full view, holding Godric Gryffindor's sword out for them to see. "Does this look like a lie to you? Is this weapon not supposed to be locked away for safe-keeping in your vault Bellatrix?"

All at once: Bellatrix's mouth fell open, Voldemort's wand dropped, and Ron was released from the spell.

He collapsed to his knees, slumping towards Malfoy, who put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him before he could fall flat on his face. The other boy was not looking at him though, he was staring up at Snape.

Everything in Malfoy's expression pleaded for help, for a sign, or simply acknowledgment that the man even noticed their predicament.

Snape would not look at either of them.

Bellatrix recovered enough to suddenly rush forward, trying to snatch the sword from Snape's hands. "_No_, it's a copy, it's a fake, it must be-"

"Bellatrix do not waste time- go to your vault NOW!" Voldemort roared over her frantic protests. "Your very life depends on what you find!"

She paled, Apparating on the spot.

Voldemort stared at the empty place where she had stood. He was enraged, knuckles white around his wand.

Snape watched him with concern.

Ron wobbled on his knees, still shaking. Shivering all over. Snape wasn't helping them, but-but Harry had said they could _trust_ Snape, didn't he?

Ron's thoughts were terribly confused and slow to form- mostly the same horrifying, incomprehensible words kept repeating over and over again in his head and it overwhelmed everything else: _my_ _right eye is gone_.

Voldemort's voice shook with anger when he finally spoke, "Dolohov, Rowle, prepare an all-out assault on Hogwarts."

"Yes my Lord!"

"My Lord!"

"Selwyn, dispose of these two- however you like. Save Weasley's body though, we don't want Potter to miss his friend for too long." He turned back to Snape, his emotions more under control. "Now I have more questions for you Severus, come, follow me-"

_Creeeak_

It was a muted sound, barely heard, but it was enough to stop Voldemort in his tracks.

His red eyes shifted upwards.

Voldemort's instincts were impeccable, and he disappeared in a puff of smoke, reappearing on the opposite side of the room as the chandelier that had just detached from the ceiling dropped to the ground with an ear-drum shattering crash.

Two Death Eaters weren't as lucky, their legs were crushed underneath the heavy iron. They yelled, squirming in pain, but before anyone could move to help or figure out what had happened, a voice that seemed to come from nowhere roared: "_Bombarda_!"

The remains of the chandelier exploded, sending deadly daggers of metal and broken glass through the air in all directions. Ron didn't have enough sense in him left to make much effort to save himself, but Malfoy shoved him down so they both huddled low to the floor.

At the same moment, a shield erupted in front of the pair and the flying projectiles ricocheted off, avoiding them completely.

Death Eaters were stumbling about, holding at their own bleeding limbs, looking around for their attackers.

"What's going on? Where did it come from?!"

"It must be Aurors!"

"Impossible, they can't get past our defenses!"

The shouts began to blend together. It was a vague mix of violent, angry noises. He could hear more spells being cast. Explosions. Shouting. Ron let it all wash over him with a sense of detachment. Unfeeling, uncaring. Muscles loosened and he felt himself sink more heavily into the floor.

He'd put up a valiant effort, but he could no longer resist the insatiable force that relentlessly tugged against him, pulling at his consciousness. His mind was desperate to be far away from this. Anything to save him from this terrible reality.

_My eye..._

Ron let his bloody cheek rest against the cold stone and he fell into the black.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Jennifer Lawrence_


End file.
